Tales of Love and Life, as told by an Irish Banana
by Saturday
Summary: But then again, I realized long ago that there's something seriously wrong with Racetrack's brain. It seems sensible that he'd like caterpillars. [rated for crossdressing and mortal fear of potted plants]
1. Don't believe in magic, eh, Davey?

Author's Note: Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I FINALLY managed to write a story with NO slash content and NO Travis songs!!! (Bows deeply) I LIVE ON REVIEWS, please R&R but no flames, s'il vous plaît. (Sorry. . .Just took my French unit exam and I can't get the language friggin' outta my head.) And by the way, I know Max Casella is probably NOT left-handed, but. . .yeah, it's all good.  
  
Disclaimer: I barely own anything. I don't own any of the Newsies (but I'd sure as hell like to) or even Famous- actually, Famous is one of my dad's friends from college (don't worry, it's just a nickname). He's really cool and I realized a while back "Hey! That's an awesome name, I'm using it in my fanfic!" So I am. . .but I don't own him. And in my story, she's a girl. Just in case you can't tell.  
  
*****  
  
Chapter One - Don't believe in magic, eh, Davey?  
  
*****  
  
Spot Conlon is a very very very very VERY mean guy.  
  
I just figured that out last night. Racetrack said he's proud of me for coming to my senses. He says I've been an idiot for going out with Spot for so long.  
  
I'm beginning to think he's right, which is a terrifying prospect. Race is hardly every right. He's even left-handed, for God's sake. (Aww, bad pun! I'm sorry, I won't do it again. . .)  
  
It was Friday night and Race, Jack, David, and I were standing outside Irving Hall, waiting for David's signal that the guards weren't looking. When he finally nodded, we slipped in through the back entrance to say hello to Medda and avoid paying. I went in last, right after Jack.  
  
You couldn't let me down easy, could you, Spot? Nah, I had to walk in on you almost HAVING SEX with some bitch from Staten Island. Shows just how damn considerate you are.  
  
Asshole.  
  
Medda looked up. "Kelly! Great to see you, kid!" She came over to us, planted a kiss on Jack's cheek, and proceeded to wrap her arms around Race.  
  
"We've missed ya, Medda," he said, his voice rather muffled.  
  
"Aw, I've missed you too!" she cried, giving him an extra squeeze before letting him go. She looked extremely pretty tonight, in a pale blue dress with a matching parasol. She caught my eye. "Famous Williams, I haven't seen you in the LONGEST time!"  
  
"Hard to get down here from Queens," I said, smiling.  
  
She tapped my shoulder with her parasol. "Well you should put in more effort," she laughed. "I miss seeing you with that Conlon boy up in your mezzanine seats."  
  
Race coughed. I stiffened slightly at the mention of Spot's name, but managed a half-hearted smile. The whole world didn't have to know how pissed off I was at him.  
  
I don't get angry easily, but do you know what he said to me after I came in and saw him half-naked with some other girl? I damn near knocked him out. He said, "Oh hey, Famous, how's it rollin'?"  
  
HOW'S IT ROLLIN'?  
  
Well then, as I'm sure you can imagine, I really did knock him out. It was extremely enjoyable, I must say.  
  
Medda seemed to sense something was wrong. She bit her lip for a second. "Well, I'm going to be on in a few minutes, so I'm going to have to kick you gentlemen- and lady- back into the audience," she told us, smiling. "See you later."  
  
"Bye, Medda!" Race called as we left. Man, he couldn't be any more obvious if he were drooling a puddle on the floor.  
  
We took seats in the mezzanine as usual, Race and I sitting on the railing and swinging our legs back and fourth. "Guys- Isn't that kind of dangerous?" said David in a parental tone of voice.  
  
"Aw shaddup, Davey," Race replied nonchalantly, lighting his cigar. He turned to me. "I heard there's a new act comin' on t'day. Should be fun, eh?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
I didn't just knock him out. Spot, I mean. I took his cane and would have brought it all the way back to Manhattan as a trophy, had I not realized Spot would eventually WAKE UP. (Yeah, I'm a little slow. . .) I think he would have come to our Lodging House in the middle of the night and strangled me with his bare hands if he woke up to find I took his beloved cane.  
  
Ah, the little things I used to find so sexy about him that now drive me insane. It's funny, really, how much can change over the course of 24 hours.  
  
"Ladies and gentlemen, heeeeeere's Miss Medda Larkson!" came the announcer's voice out of nowhere, jerking me out of my reverie and almost causing Racetrack to fall off the railing. I grabbed his forearm to steady him.  
  
"Thanks, babe," he said jokingly. I grinned.  
  
Medda did her thing on stage to "My Lovey-Dovey Baby" and I swear Race almost slipped on his own drool and fell off the mezzanine again. Jack and David leaned foreword on the railing, glazed expressions on their faces.  
  
"Mmm, our life vas ducky-lucky," Medda sang through her fake Swedish accent, "So goody-good vere ve. . .Come back my lovey-dovey baby, and coochie-coo vis me." The song ended and she curtsied, her parasol resting over her shoulder.  
  
Everyone applauded. "WOO HOO, MEDDA!" bellowed Race, waving his hat around like a madman. She caught his eye and winked before turning and waltzing off the stage.  
  
"I'm seriously startin' to think Medda gets prettier every time I see her," I said through my cigarette.  
  
"Oh I definitely agree," Jack laughed. I punched him playfully in the arm and he grabbed my cigarette.  
  
Once again the lights dimmed and the announcer's voice boomed out, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our newest act: Madame Skittana and her amazing magic powers!"  
  
"Magic powers. Ha! I don't believe in magic!" David scoffed as we all clapped.  
  
"Hmm," said Jack, shrugging.  
  
The curtain opened and out stepped the most peculiar woman I have ever seen. She was wearing a fat purple coat that hung rather loosely over her shoulders, a gold turban, and scarlet spectacles. There was something strikingly familiar about her face, but I couldn't put my finger on it. "Good day to you all," she sang out mistily, nostrils flaring. "My name. . .is Madame Skittana. . .and I can see what is in. . .each and every one of your minds. . ."  
  
She held out her words as thought it was all a bizarre chant. It ended up sounding more like, "Good daaaaaaaay to yoooouuuu aaaaaaaaaall. . .My naaaaaaaame. . .is Madame Skittaaaaaanaaa. . .and IIIIIII can see what is in eeeeeeeeeach and eeeeeeevery one of your miiiiiiiiiiinds. . ."  
  
A collective gasp resounded from the audience at these words. Everyone was up for a little mind-reading- I mean, who doesn't like some magic every once in a while?  
  
David doesn't, I can tell you that much right off the bat. He thinks he's too smart for magic tricks. "Ha!" he said loudly. "Magic? Yeah right, you couldn't read my mind if I paid you-"  
  
"Dooooooooo I spyyyyyyy a volunteeeeeeeer?" Madame Skittana called out, peering beadily at David through her thick spectacles.  
  
"You bet you do."  
  
"Cooooooooould you be so kiiiiiiiind as to come dooooooown here so I may demonstraaaaaaaate my powers?" she said.  
  
David grinned at us. "She's never going to guess what I'm thinking. Watch this."  
  
"I wouldn't be so sure, Davey," Jack called after him as David climbed down from the mezzanine. "Them magic people know stuff, y'know?"  
  
David ignored him and stepped onto the stage. "Hi, I'm D-"  
  
"Dooooon't!" Madame Skittana cried. Her nostrils flared again, and she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "Your naaaaaaaame. . .is Daaaaaaaaaavid Jaaaaaaacobs. . ." she said finally. Her huge brown eyes opened and she gave him a dewy smile.  
  
David tried not to look impressed. "Oh yeah?" he said scathingly. "Is that all you've got?"  
  
"Coooooooome," said Madame Skittana. "Let us siiiiiiiit and I shall tell you aaaaall I knoooooooooow. . ."  
  
A huge ornate table appeared out of nowhere with a milky crystal ball sitting in the center. She sat down on one of the stools and beckoned imperiously to David, but he looked reluctant. "Cooooooome!" she urged. "If we wait much loooonger, we may destroy the claaaaaaaairvoooooooooyaaaaaant vibraaaaations in the rooooooom. . ."  
  
I had no doubt whatsoever that that was exactly what David was hoping for, but Madame Skittana arched an eyebrow dangerously and he quickly sat down. "Um. . .okay, what do you want me to do?"  
  
"Giiiiiiiiive me your haaaaaaands," she instructed. He obeyed. "Nooooooow, gaaaaze into my crystal ball and concentraaaaaaate on your liiiiiiiiife. . .aaaaaaand I shall reeeeeeaaaaaaad what I seeeeeeeeee. . ."  
  
A look of concentration came over David's face as the two of them leaned over the crystal ball. Madame Skittana's nostrils flared. "Yoooooouuuu liiiiiive. . .wiiiiiiiiiith your faaaaaamily," she said slowly, brown furrowing delicately, "aaaaaaaalthough your close friends resiiiiiiiide in a Lodging House. . .Yooooooouuuuuu and your younger broooooother. . .Les, I believe. . .work as neeeeeeeewsboys in Maaaaaaaaanhattaaaaaaaan. . ."  
  
David looked rather scared. She was getting everything right.  
  
"Yoooooooouuuuuuu have maaaaaany friends in the Lodging House. . ." (David looked smug again at this statement) ". . .aaaaaaall of whiiiiiiiiiiich are much more haaaaaandsome than you. . ." (The smug look vanished) ". . .except Snipeshooter. . ." (Jack started to laugh) ". . .I dooooo belieeeeeve the leeeeeeeeader goes by the naaaaame of. . .Jack Kelly? Yeeeeeees, a smart young lad with greeeeeeaaaaaasy haaaaaair. . ."  
  
Racetrack and I started laughing too, and a ghost of a smile flickered across Madame Skittana's face. Then it hit me; I knew where I had seen her before.  
  
"Hey- you're supposed to be talking about ME here," said David, annoyed.  
  
"Oh yeeeeees, dreeeeeeeaaaaaadfully sorry, my deeeeeeeaaaaaar," said Madame Skittana sincerely. Her enormous brown eyes flew back to the crystal ball, and she stared into its milky depths. "Yooooooooouuuuuuuu aaaaaand your frieeeeeeeends have goooooooone. . .on striiiiiiiike, in the paaaaaaaast. . ." she continued. "Yes. . .you conquered one of the most pooooooowerful men in Neeeeeeew Yooooooork Ciiiiity. . .and your beeeeeeaaaaaaauuuuuuutiful sister Sarah and the greeeeeaaaaasy- haaaaaaiiiiiiired Jack Kelly fell iiiiiiiin loooooooove."  
  
"Awwwwwww!" went the crowd. (I'm starting to think holding out your words is contagious.)  
  
"In order tooooooooooo win the striiiiiiiiike, yooooooou tried to get the aaaaaaid of the other boroughs. . .Queens was unable toooooo help, although your loud Itaaaaaalian friend aaaaaaalmost knocked the leader out. . ."  
  
"Yeah, I still owe you a couple of punches, Race," I muttered.  
  
David shifted in his seat. "Aaaaah, buuuuuut- Augh, now you've got me holding out my vowels, you crazy old hag- Ah, but what were the names of my loud Italian friend and the Queens leader?"  
  
"Weeeeeeeell." Madame Skittana began, "The small Italian boy. . .aaaaah, but I must be mistaken. . .Racetrack Higgins? What an unusual name!"  
  
"Nope, you're wrong," said David.  
  
"Doooooo not liiiiiiiiie to meeeeee, David Jacobs!" she cried. "Aaaaaaaaaam I correct iiiin saaaying that his naaaaaaaame is Racetrack Higgiiiiiiins?"  
  
"Yeah," said David meekly.  
  
"Gooooooood," she answered, satisfied. She bent low over the crystal ball, rubbing her temples again. "Aaaaaaand the girl. . .Could it beeeeee Famous Willaims?"  
  
"But what's her REAL name?" David challenged.  
  
"Fianna."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"She's Irish."  
  
"Oh." I could see David mouth the words "Fianna Williams", testing them out. He shrugged and turned back to Madame Skittana. "One last thing: what is Jack Kelly's real name and why did he change it?"  
  
"Hmm. . ." She gazed into the crystal ball again. "His real naaaaaaame. . .iiiiiis Francis Sullivan. Heeeeeee used to be held in the refuuuuuuuge. . .buuuuuuuut he escaped. . . aaaaaand changed his naaaaaaaame to-"  
  
"SKITTERY!" yelled David, standing up.  
  
"Noooo, Jack Kelly."  
  
"No- Skittery!" he repeated. "SKITTERY! It's you! I KNOW it's you, it HAS to be you! I don't believe- AUGH!"  
  
Madame Skittana stared at him for a second, then smiled and removed her turban and glasses. Skittery was unmistakably sitting before us, smiling shyly. "Fooled ya," he said simply.  
  
"I KNEW IT!" I yelled, almost falling off the mezzanine. "I KNEW IT- WHO ELSE WOULD SAY IN FRONT OF A WHOLE AUDIENCE THAT JACK HAS GREASY HAIR! I KNEW IT WAS YOU!"  
  
"Glad to hear ya figured it out, Fianna," Skittery called out to me. "Ya always said I was a good actor. I'm just surprised our brilliant Davey didn't figure it out sooner." And with that he stood up, blew a kiss at me, patted David on the shoulder, and left the stage.  
  
David stood there for a second, mouthing wordlessly like a fish out of water, and Race started to laugh uncontrollably. "Man, he gotchya good, Dave!" he bellowed. "WOO HOO, that was GREAT!"  
  
David looked ready to kill.  
  
It was the first time in the past day that I felt perfectly happy, and, considering how mad I was at Spot, that's saying something.  
  
Hats off to Skittery.  
  
*****  
  
Author's Note: I know, this is the dumbest and most bizarre thing I have ever written in my life, but I've got a thing for Skittery and a thing against David. . .but I still love him in a hating sort of way. . .I just love the fact that he's such a loser. . .nevermind. But please review!!! I'll try to update sometime soon. And I'm warning you, it's going to get weirder. Not TOO MUCH weirder, but. . .augh, nevermind. And I know Famous was kind of obnoxious in this first chapter, but she gets a lot nicer as the story progresses. Augh, enough of me blabbing. Review!! Please! I'll love you forever (and I really will, I'm not exaggerating). lol ;-)  
  
-Saturday 


	2. Well I thought it tasted like coleslaw

Author's Note: Chapter two. . .I'm not really sure whether it's weirder or less weird than chapter one. I'll let you make the call. Thanks to my three marvelous reviewers!!! Shoutouts at the end of the chapter.  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own anything except the caterpillar, Stuart, Catriona, their dog, and Famous- but not her name. . .lol. Everything else DOESN'T belong to me, so please don't sue!!!  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Two - Well I thought it tasted like coleslaw.  
  
*****  
  
They didn't always call me Famous. I used to go by Fianna Williams, my real name, but I earned a moniker for myself rather quickly because of my big mouth and my unusual appearance. I'm not particularly pretty or anything; I just have extremely yellow hair. It's like the color of the inside of a banana, according to Racetrack. I'm not kidding, the first thing he ever said to me was, "Wow, is that real? It looks like the color of the inside of a banana."  
  
And I guess it does.  
  
So eventually Race started referring to me as "that famous Irish girl with the banana hair" as a sort of pun. (You know, like an oxymoron? Like I'm famous but he doesn't know my name. . .Don't worry, I didn't think it was all that funny either.) Anyways, the name sort of stuck. And here I am: Famous Williams, the Irish girl with the banana hair, Racetrack Higgins' best friend, Spot Conlon's ex.  
  
Yep, yep, yep.  
  
I must say, the prank Skittery pulled off so beautifully kept Race and me laughing for a full ten minutes or so until David decided to go back home in a huff. He was really cross, which only made us laugh more. His nose looks funny when he's mad.  
  
Of course Jack left to go find Skittery and congratulate him, leaving Race and me alone. Not generally a good idea.  
  
"Hey, ya wanna go back to Manhattan with me?" he asked me as we left Irving Hall. We had both agreed that no act could ever compare to the one we had just seen, so we made up our minds to go home.  
  
"Sure," I said.  
  
We walked in silence for a little while (extremely unusual for us) as Race chewed on the end of his cigar and hummed "My Lovey-Dovey Baby" under his breath. I then remembered that Jack still had my cigarette, and began to rummage in my pockets for another one.  
  
"STUART!!!" I heard a woman with a strong Scottish accent yelling from inside one of the houses. "STUART, THAT DAMN DOG O' YERS PEED ON THE BED AGAIN! TAKE IT OUTSIDE NOW!"  
  
"Its awright, Catriona, I'm sure 'e didn't pee on the-"  
  
"STUART!!!"  
  
"Awright, awright, I'm takin' 'im outside. . ."  
  
A middle-aged man came out of one of the houses, holding a small dog as far from his body as he could to avoid being peed on. It was yapping loudly, wriggling and trying to get free. Finally he put it down and said to it, "Y'know, yer gonna be the death o' me. I don' think Catriona likes you much."  
  
Of course, this caused a fresh wave of silent laughter to overtake Race and me. We passed the peeing dog and the Scottish man and rounded the corner before leaning against the nearest building, laughing hysterically. "Man, it's been a good night," I said between chuckles.  
  
"Yeah," Race agreed. He took a puff of his cigar before turning to me. "Hey Famous?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Y'ever eaten a bug?"  
  
I looked at him, the corner of my mouth tugging up. "Yeah," I said. "Once- when I was six. Spot told me the big green ones taste like chicken and I believed him."  
  
"Do they?"  
  
"What- taste like chicken?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
I raised my eyebrows, thinking hard. "Actually, I think they taste more like coleslaw. . ." I said slowly. I grinned. "Have you ever eaten a bug?"  
  
"I will if you pay me twenty-seven cents," said Race quickly.  
  
"Lost a bet again?"  
  
He nodded, smiling sadly. "It was horrible. Ya know how I get when I'm drunk."  
  
"Yeah," I answered, trying not to chuckle. It's really quite amusing. With every drink Race has, the more he starts to laugh. One time he messed in his pants from laughing so hard just because Jack's hat fell off. (I'm sure you can imagine how many drinks Race had had. . .It wasn't pretty)  
  
I reached over to a nearby tree and pulled a caterpillar off one of the leaves. It looked promising. "Here ya go, Racetrack," I said, handing it to him. "I'll pay you what you need if you eat this."  
  
"Awright," said Race, and he popped it into his mouth. Once I saw he was done I reached into my pocket to get the money, but he stopped me. "Actually, Famous, that was quite delicious," he said. "Tasted a bit like broccoli, y'know?"  
  
And with that he bounced away, singing, "LOOK AT ME, I'M DA KING O' NEW YOIK!"  
  
Go figure.  
  
But then again, I realized long ago that there's something seriously wrong with Racetrack's brain. It seems sensible that he'd like caterpillars.  
  
*****  
  
As you can imagine, Race beat me to the Lodging House. When I reached it he was recounting Skittery's brilliant hoax for the rest of the newsies, many of which were leaning against each other, rocking with laughter.  
  
"Evenin', Famous, what took you s'long?" said Race cheerfully through his cigar.  
  
"Well I, unlike you, didn't eat a bug and get hyper," I replied casually, taking off my hat and putting it on the table.  
  
"Ya ate a bug?" said Mush excitedly. "What kind?"  
  
"Fat green caterpillar."  
  
"Oooh, man, those things are GOOD!"  
  
"I know! They taste kinda like-"  
  
"Broccoli, yeah."  
  
"When did you eat one?"  
  
"I swallowed it by accident a while back, and it turned out it was real good."  
  
"They ARE good, though, aren't they?"  
  
"I know, I was surprised. Wasn't was wriggly as I expected it to be."  
  
"Oh. . .mine wriggled a little."  
  
"Oh yeah. I forgot. Mine was dead."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yep. It was still extremely fresh, though."  
  
"I'm sure it was."  
  
"Wait. . ." said Blink loudly. "Famous, you've been feeding Race BUGS? He's crazy enough as he is!"  
  
"I'm sorry, we had a bet that I'd pay him twenty-five cents-"  
  
"Twenty-seven cents," Race corrected.  
  
"Twenty-seven cents, sorry, if he ate a bug-"  
  
"Was this YOUR idea?" Blink demanded.  
  
"Hell no, he randomly said it to me."  
  
"Oh, well then in that case it's all his fault."  
  
Race threw his hat at Blink, just as the Lodging House door opened and in walked Mr. Spot Conlon himself. Aw man, I wish I could have taken a picture of his face when he saw me. Absolutely priceless.  
  
"What the hell are you doin' here?" I said.  
  
"What the hell are YOU doin' here?" he answered.  
  
"There seems to be a slight blip in the plans tonight, boys," said Race loudly. "WHO THE HELL INVITED FAMOUS AND SPOT TO THE SAME PLACE AT THE SAME TIME?"  
  
"Well how was I supposed to know Famous was comin'?" yelled Blink.  
  
"WHEN DID YOU INVITE SPOT?"  
  
"I didn't!"  
  
"I'm not talking to you, Mush!"  
  
"Well then why were you looking at me?"  
  
"Because. . .well actually, it was because you've got something in your hair."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah. Right there on the side. . .hold on, lemme get it out. . ."  
  
We all waited patiently as Race pulled the piece of fuzz out of Mush's hair, before turning back to Blink and repeating, "WHEN DID YOU INVITE SPOT?"  
  
"I asked him this mornin' if he wanted to come over to play poker!"  
  
"We're playing poker?" said Race. "Well then, come on, Spot, lemme get my cards."  
  
Et volia. He deserted me just like that, and went upstairs to get his rather dilapidated deck of cards. Spot and I regarded each other grimly for a couple of minutes (I've spent years perfecting my skill of holding his gaze), before he leaned foreword. "Uh.Famous, I wanted to explain about last night," he said softly.  
  
I started to laugh. "Oh yeah, Conlon, I'm sure there's a perfectly logical explanation for it all, eh?"  
  
"Yeah," he said.  
  
"She forced ya, right?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"The goil- ya know, the one from Staten Island? Ha, I bet ya forgot, didn't ya? You was so punch-drunk ya just forgot." I started laughing again (I swear there's nothing more intoxicating than boys) and he tilted his head to the side and licked his lips. "Hey- Spot, c'mon, don't look at me like that," I said suddenly.  
  
"I'm just measurin' ya up."  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Just seein' if I should punch ya in the stomach first or just go directly for the head."  
  
I smiled and leaned foreword. "Well, Conlon," I said softly, "considerin' I'm a good bit taller than you, I'd go for the stomach first if I was you."  
  
Spot started at me, and I backed away a couple of steps. I wasn't sure I'd be able to knock him out again; I mean, last time he had had his tongue in some other girl's mouth and it took him a minute to get it out. However, I was pretty sure he'd keep his tongue to himself when he was attacking me this time.  
  
I did note with satisfaction that he had a trace of a bruise over his left cheekbone. Hmm. Looks like I did give him a bit of a shiner after all.  
  
That must be the first shiner I have ever given ANYONE. I'm not a particularly good fighter, to put it nicely.  
  
Luckily the door opened at that very moment, stopping Spot from plowing me over. We all burst into applause as Jack and Skittery walked in, holding the turban, dress, and spectacles and soaked to the skin.  
  
"My HERO!!!" Kid Blink yelled in a shrill falsetto voice, running at Skittery and enveloping him into a hug. "Man, I can't believe you managed to pull that off!"  
  
"Guess Dave ain't as sharp as he thinks he is, eh?" Jack laughed.  
  
"Nah. . .I'd hope not," Skittery answered, trying to put move to the table to put down his costume (he was having extreme difficulty, though, because Blink had latched himself to his leg). "I wouldn't like to think I looked THAT much like a goil."  
  
"No comment," said Race, coming down from the sleeping quarters. Skittery threw his turban at him, but missed because Mush had decided to give him a hug too and threw himself onto Skittery's chest.  
  
"Wait- what the hell are you guys talkin' about?" Spot demanded.  
  
Of course Race took it to himself to thoroughly explain what happened, and Skittery seized the opportunity to slip through the crowd and to the stairs. "Hey, man, where're ya goin'?" I whispered, grabbing his arm.  
  
"To sleep. Ya have no idea how exhausting holding out all your vowels is," he answered, grinning, before heading up to the sleeping quarters.  
  
*****  
  
Shoutouts!!!  
  
Sapphy: I'm glad you liked it! I'm not sure what I think of this chapter. . .I might put up chapter three with it, just to add some content. Thanks for the review! (And Skittery is very pleased you called him a "hoot", he won't shut up. He's been bouncing around singing "I FEEL PRETTY!" for the past six or seven hours. . .)  
  
ershey: I actually originally had Famous knocking out the girl Spot was with, too, but I decided that was too mean. Famous is kind of a loser; she's always worrying about hurting other people's feelings. Anyway, thanks so much for the review!!! I love Race too!  
  
ShortAtntionSpaz: "She should steal his cane and break it over his head! muah ha ha! there's no duct tape in 1899! *dances with excitement* he can't fix it, he can't fix it!" Man, you're such a nut! I cracked up when I was reading your review!!! Thank you so much, you rock! (And I agree Famous really SHOULD do that, but she's a little slow and probably would just get herself hurt in the process. . .)  
  
Author's Note: THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING! I LOVE YOU ALL!  
  
-Saturday 


	3. Truth or Dare

Author's Note: I decided to upload this chapter too, because the last one was kind of pointless. But I didn't mean for this chapter to turn out so bizarre. Honest! I guess it's just impossible to have Newsies playing truth or dare without it turning out rather weird. I'm sorry Davey isn't in it, for you David-fans, I decided to leave him at home because he'd spoil the game.  
  
Disclaimer: YIPEE, I OWN SOMETHING! I own Harriet and the squiggly moustache. Oh yeah and Sophia, but she's barely worth mentioning. She's just annoying. I do NOT own "The Ugly Bug Ball" or any other song lyrics that may slip in here, and I do NOT own any of our beloved newsies. . .but maybe that's good, because if I did own them I'd never share and everyone in the whole world would be pissed off at me.  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Three - Truth or Dare  
  
*****  
  
"TRUTH OR DARE!!!!!" Itey bellowed.  
  
We all turned to look at him. He was sitting on one of the beds, swinging his legs back and fourth and grinning. "I'm bored," he said, shrugging, as though that explained everything. "Let's play truth or dare."  
  
I was the first person to start laughing. "Alright, Itey, I'll play truth or dare with ya if ya want."  
  
"Hooray!" he yelled, hopping lightly off the bed and sitting contentedly in the middle of the floor. Again, we all stared at him. He looked right back at us and then, in a voice that hinted we were all a bit dim, justified, "You HAVE to sit in a circle when ya play truth or dare."  
  
"Oh I'm sorry," said Race sarcastically. "I must have left my Truth or Dare Handbook at Tibby's."  
  
"Oh, that's alright." Itey rummaged around in his pockets for a second, and then handed Race a little booklet. "You can borrow mine."  
  
"Oooh, can I see that?" said Jack. "I've never played truth or dare before."  
  
"Whaddaya mean ya haven't played truth or dare before?" Race demanded.  
  
"Ha!" said Blink. "Poor, deprived child."  
  
Mush scratched his head. "I think I played with my girlfriend once. . .but then I dared her to shave her head and she didn't wanna. . .That's about when she dumped me, I think, although I can't imagine why." (A/N: I know there is mention of shaving someone's head during a Truth or Dare game in "One Long Night" by Nakaia Aidan-Sun, but when I wrote this chapter I hadn't even heard of that story before. So I'm not plagiarizing!!! Read her story, though, it's absolutely hysterical.)  
  
Blink laughed and patted Mush's shoulder supportively. "That's ok, nobody understands goils anyways."  
  
"Oh, thanks," I said loudly.  
  
Blink smiled sweetly at me. "Well, ya see, Famous, you're not a goil."  
  
"No?"  
  
"No. You're a. . .Famous."  
  
Why does everyone end up saying that to me? I'm not a girl, I'm a Famous. "Thanks, Blink."  
  
"No problem!"  
  
We all sat down in a circle, and Skittery got out of bed and joined us because he claimed he couldn't sleep through the noise we were making. Sheesh, he lives in a house full of teenage boys and he still hasn't adjusted to sleeping through a huge racket. He's so damn high-maintenance sometimes, y'know? "OKAY!" Itey yelled. (Man, I think the kid talks 90% of the time in capital letters). "I'm gonna start 'cause I suggested the game. . ."  
  
"Good following the rules!" said Jack approvingly, nodding from the handbook.  
  
"I know it by heart."  
  
"Really? Whoa."  
  
"OKAY!" Itey yelled again. "I'm gonna start 'cause I suggested the game. . .and I wanna do it to. . .hmm. . .I wanna do it to Mush."  
  
"Me?!" said Mush, bouncing up and looking rather scared.  
  
"Yeah, you. Truth or dare."  
  
"Uh. . .Dare?"  
  
We all flinched. "Aaaah, Mush," said Jack sadly. "Rule number 10: Never ever EVER accept a dare from Itey, especially when he has had caffeine or after eight o'clock PM."  
  
"Hey Klopp!" I yelled.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"What time is it?"  
  
There was a pause while Kloppman checked the clock and we all held our breath. "About 8:01," he said finally.  
  
Mush glanced back at Itey, who was laughing and muttering to himself, and looked as though it was the last day of his life. "Wait!!!" yelled Jack. "Rule number 117: BE NICE TO MUSH!!! So there."  
  
"Shit," said Itey.  
  
Mush stuck his tongue out at him, and settled happily back next to Blink.  
  
"Mush, I dare you to go and make out with that bug on the windowsill by Skittery's bed," Itey commanded.  
  
"THERE'S A BUG NEAR MY BED???" screamed Skittery, leaping up and running downstairs. "GET IT AWAY GET IT AWAY GET IT AWAY GET IT AWAY!!!!!"  
  
We all looked after him for a second, before our attention was focused again on Mush. "Um," he said. "I've never kissed a bug before. Do they even have lips?"  
  
"Of course they do, now go!" said Itey.  
  
"Okay!" He skipped off toward the windowsill and picked up the bug. It wasn't a particularly big bug, as far as insects go. . .but it was rather hairy and its legs stuck out at weird angles. Mush wrinkled his nose at it. "You know what, Miss Ugly Bug?" he said in a soft, soothing voice. "I don't care that you're ugly. I'll love you anyways, and to show you how much I love you I'm going to sing a song to you. Ready?  
  
Once a lonely caterpillar sat and cried To a sympathetic beetle by his side. 'I've got nobody to hug, I'm such an ugly bug.' Then a spider and a dragonfly replied 'If you're serious and want to win a bride, Come along with us To the glorious, Annual ugly bug ball.'  
  
Come on let's crawl, Gotta crawl, gotta crawl To the ugly bug ball To the ball, to the ball And a happy time we'll have there One and all At the ugly bug ball!  
  
While the crickets clicked their tricky melodies All the ants were fancy-dancing with the fleas. Then up from under the ground The worms came squirming around Everyone was so glad! What a time they had! They were so happy they came!  
  
Come on let's crawl, Gotta crawl, gotta crawl To the ugly bug ball To the ball, to the ball And a happy time we'll have there One and all At the ugly bug ball!  
  
Then our caterpillar saw a pretty queen She was beautiful in yellow, black and green He said, 'Would you care to dance?' Their dancing led to romance. And she sat upon his caterpillar knees And he gave his caterpillar queen a squeeze Soon they'll honeymoon Build a big cocoon Thanks to the ugly bug ball  
  
Come on let's crawl, Gotta crawl, gotta crawl To the ugly bug ball To the ball, to the ball And a happy time we'll have there One and all At the ugly bug ball!"  
  
Yet again, there was a moment of silence where we all stared at him. Then I started to clap, and Race and Itey joined in. "That's was so TOUCHING!!!" Itey sobbed.  
  
"It's my favorite song!" Mush announced proudly. He then took his ugly bug in his hands and planted a kiss firmly on where I assume her head must have been. But who knows with bugs?  
  
"I would think the feelers would tickle your lips," said Race sagely.  
  
"Oh they do," said Mush seriously. "I personally thought it was quite delightful." He cupped the bug to his chest and sat down again, humming happily.  
  
"Oooh!" said Jack. "The Truth or Dare Handbook says it's YOUR turn to do truth or dare to someone, Mush."  
  
"Me?!" said Mush, bouncing up and looking rather scared again.  
  
"Yeah," Blink reassured him. "But don't worry, this won't be half as scary as kissing a bug."  
  
"BLINK," Mush scolded, "She's right here, you know."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Harriet."  
  
"Harriet who?"  
  
"Harriet my FRIEND! Harriet the hairy, ugly bug."  
  
"Um. . .right, Mush." Blink was starting to look rather scared himself. "Just- Just truth or dare somebody, alright?"  
  
"Okay!" Mush looked around at us all, and then smiled at me. "Famous! I pick you!"  
  
I grinned back. "Okay, Mush, dare."  
  
"WAIT!" Jack shouted. "You can't pick truth or dare until he's ASKED you the specific words 'truth or dare', according to the Truth or Dare Handbook."  
  
"Thanks for lettin' us know, Mr. Truth-or-Dare-Know-It-All!" Spot sniggered. (I jumped; I had almost forgotten he was here.)  
  
"I am NOT a Truth or Dare know-it-all!" Jack retorted brilliantly.  
  
"FAMOUS!" Mush yelled over them. "TRUTH OR DARE!"  
  
"DARE!" I yelled back.  
  
Everybody shut up to listen. "Um. . .I dare you to kiss Jack on the lips!"  
  
"What?!" I yelled.  
  
"Aw, c'mon, is that the worst ya can do?" Race laughed. "I think Famous deserves something a little more. . .painful." I attempted to grab him in a headlock, missed, and ended up in Jack's lap with Race almost crushing me.  
  
"Wait. . .What if I have AIDS?" said Jack.  
  
Race sat up. "What the hell is AIDS?"  
  
"It's this disease from the future that can spread by kissing, sexual intercourse, or birth. It breaks down your immune system so that you can die of a simple ailment like a common cold," Jack explained.  
  
"Oh, right."  
  
"Well I don't think you have AIDS, that shouldn't come to the world for at least a couple of decades, so just KISS HER or you'll be disqualified!" Itey yelled.  
  
"Will I really?" said Jack, sounding mildly surprised. He flipped through the handbook. "My, you're right!"  
  
"Kiss her!"  
  
Jack looked at Race (who was starting to laugh). Then he looked at me. Then he looked at Itey. "Why?" he said quickly.  
  
"BECAUSE MUSH TOOOOOOLD YOU TOOOOOO!!!!!!" yelled Itey. "Yep yep yep, that's what he did!"  
  
"Okay, Jack, we'd better follow the handbook or we'll be DISQUALIFIED!" I yelled, horrified.  
  
"Aaaaah, you're RIGHT!" he shouted, and grabbed the side of my face and kissed me.  
  
"Oooooooooooooooooh. . ." Crutchy crooned, and Race laughed harder than ever.  
  
Jack let go of me and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. He grinned. (He's an extremely good kisser; can you imagine being Sarah and getting that every day? Hmm, not a bad prospect if you ask me. . .NO! I don't like Jack, he's a loser with greasy hair!)  
  
"Hooray!!!!!" yelled Itey, falling over.  
  
"Okay, it's my turn," I said. "Um-"  
  
"Is the bug gone?" said Skittery very quietly, coming back upstairs with a hesitant look on his face.  
  
"It's okay, Harriet won't hurt you," Mush said cheerfully, holding his cupped hands out for Skittery to see. "Wanna hold her?"  
  
"NO!!! I mean- no thanks, Mush." He sat down next to Spot, as far away from Mush as he could get.  
  
"Okay, Blink," I said. "Truth or dare?"  
  
Blink eyed me suspiciously. I actually had no ideas for a dare, but he seemed to think I was plotting against him in some way because he said in a rather shaky voice, "Truth."  
  
"Alright. . .Tell everyone about what happened to you and that girl Sophia last year down in Brooklyn."  
  
Blink started to smile, a bit of color coming into his cheeks. "Oh. . .That." He glanced at Spot, who raised his eyebrows impatiently. "Well I had been goin' out with Sophia for maybe two months, and we were walkin' down in Brooklyn for some reason or another. . .Anyways, she had a bit of a thing for Spot and wanted to go and visit him."  
  
"Really?" said Spot, smiling.  
  
"Yeah. But I didn't want to-"  
  
"I WONDER why!" Race remarked sarcastically.  
  
"-so I said 'No.' And she was like 'Yeah.' And I was like 'No.' And she was like 'Yeah.' And I was like 'No.' And she was like 'Yeah.' And I was like 'No.' And she was like 'Yeah.' And I was like 'No.' And she was like 'Yeah.' And I was like 'No.' And she was like 'Yeah.' And I was like 'No.' And she was like 'Yeah.' And I was like 'No.' And she was like 'Yeah.' And I was like 'No.' And she was like 'Yeah.' And I was like 'No.' And she was like-"  
  
"Okay!" I said quickly. "So you argued for a little while?"  
  
"A long while, actually."  
  
"I think we figured that out," Race muttered.  
  
"So then what?" I encouraged.  
  
"So then. . .So then she was like, 'Well if we don't go to Brooklyn and see Spot, I won't talk to you again!' So, thinking fast, I reached into my pocket and revealed. . .MY MAGIC MARKER!!! I then proceeded to draw a squiggly moustache on her face, before running away as fast as I could."  
  
We all cracked up. "Of course that was the only logical thing to do at the time!" said Mush, sticking up for his friend.  
  
"So true!" I gasped.  
  
"Did she chase you?" asked Race.  
  
"Who- Harriet?" said Mush.  
  
Race stared at him. "No!" he said after a minute. "No, we're talking about BLINK here! I'm asking Blink if Sophia chased him after he drew the wiggly-"  
  
"SQUIGGLY!"  
  
"Oh, sorry, SQUIGGLY moustache on her face."  
  
Blink rubbed his forehead, apparently thinking hard. "Um. . .oh yeah! Yeah, she chased me and threw me in the river. But I didn't care! She had to walk home with a squiggly moustache on her face." He sat there for a minute with a pensive look on his face. "That Sophia was a grump."  
  
"Hey! Can I have a squiggly moustache???" Itey asked.  
  
"Sure!" Blink reached into his pocket and whipped out his magic marker with a flourish, and drew a squiggly moustache on Itey's face. "We can ALL have Squiggly moustaches!!!!!"  
  
So we did. We then went to bed with squiggly moustaches outlining the happy smiles on our faces. I think it complemented my banana hair very nicely.  
  
*****  
  
Author's Note: Aaaaah, that was weird. But a load of fun to write. . .lol, please review!!!! I'll love you forever!!!  
  
-Saturday 


	4. Of Potted Plants and Gumdrops

Author's Note: Oh I just can't WAIT to be king! Dude, isn't the Lion King the best movie in the entire universe? No wait. . .NEWSIES is the best movie in the entire universe, but the Lion King is the best ANIMATED movie in the universe. Yep. Man, this chapter turned out weird. Of course, not quite as weird as Chapter 3. . .Sorry if that gave you all a bit of a scare, but what could possibly be more fun that newsies playing truth or dare at night?  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the song lyrics, newsies, Famous, or anything related to the newsies. I do own the gumdrop, potted plant, and Harriet, though. Ha, I finally own a couple of things! Awesome!  
  
*****  
  
Chapter 4 - Of Potted Plants and Gumdrops  
  
*****  
  
I think the Manhattan Lodging House has magic powers: all who sleep there end up with extremely bizarre dreams. No but seriously, every single time I sleep there I have weird dreams that always seem to end up with someone chasing me around the bathroom with a potted plant.  
  
Tonight was no exception. I fell asleep quite quickly and had one of the most peculiar dreams I have ever had (not counting the time I dreamed David was my long-lost sister and Medda and Jack were my parents. . .Man, that really creeped me out) I dreamed that I was sitting on the Brooklyn Bridge singing, "Heigh-Ho! Heigh-Ho! It's off to work we go!"- except I had no intention of going to work. Yeah, I didn't get it either. . .  
  
Then Race came and offered me a gumdrop, which I accepted. He told me he didn't like the song I was singing, so we started to sing something else instead. "I'm gonna be a mighty king, so enemies beware!" I yelled.  
  
"Well I've never seen a king of beasts with quite so yellow hair!" Race replied. (Man, I dream up really stupid parodies.)  
  
"I'm gonna be the mane event like no king was before! I'm brushing up on looking down, I'm working on my ROAR!"  
  
"Thus far, a rather uninspiring thing," Race mumbled.  
  
"Oh I just can't WAIT to be king!"  
  
The Brooklyn Bridge vanished and I appeared in the bathroom, Race still at my side. "So ya wanna be king, eh?" he demanded in a deadly whisper. He sounded exactly like Spot.  
  
I shook my head quickly, and he smiled evilly and pulled from behind his back a potted plant. "I'M GONNA THROW GUMDROPS AT YOU!" he bellowed, and started chasing me around the bathroom.  
  
It was absolutely terrifying.  
  
I awoke with a start and immediately looked over at Race's bed. He was curled up with his arm hanging over the side. He was still wearing his hat. Strange guy.  
  
Still, it was rather unnerving to see him there. I proceeded to climb off my bunk and poke him a little in the back, just to make sure he wasn't faking and planning on killing me. "Famous!" he groaned, rolling over. "What the hell're ya doin'?"  
  
"Checking for the potted plant," I whispered back.  
  
"Oh, here it is," he answered and handed it to me.  
  
"Thanks. Now you can't throw gumdrops at me."  
  
I was halfway across the room when I realized two things: that I was going in the wrong direction, and that Race really had had a potted plant. I stopped dead in my tracks and spun around to see him standing there grinning at me. "HA!" he laughed. "Man, ya should have seen the look on your face. . ."  
  
"How did ya know I'm terrified of potted plants?" I demanded.  
  
"Ya talk in your sleep, ya know."  
  
"Really?" I said mildly.  
  
"Yeah." He started to laugh.  
  
"And what exactly did I say?" I wanted to know.  
  
"Aw. . .just somethin' about Davey bein' your long-lost sister-" he began, but I almost threw the potted plant at his head. "And- you yelled somethin' like 'NO, RACE, GET THAT POTTED PLANT AWAY FROM ME!!!'"  
  
That set me off laughing too (we laugh a lot. . .too much, probably). "So tell me, Famous," Race continued. "Where exactly are you going?"  
  
I raised and lowered one shoulder (it drives him crazy when I do that). "Outside."  
  
"In the rain?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I'll come with ya."  
  
I shuddered slightly. The image of him chasing me around the bathroom with a potted plant was still fresh in my mind, and the way the moonlight gleaming on his big brown eyes was scaring me. I didn't want him to come. "Alright," I said. "But put on a shirt."  
  
He smiled at me and grabbed his shirt from under his bed, pulling it on over his head. "Happy?"  
  
"Very."  
  
We made our way outside and sat down on the cold, wet pavement in front of the Lodging House. Thunder rumbled gently overhead. "Hey Famous?" said Race.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Are ya still pissed at Spot?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Oh." He leaned back on his arms and lifted his face up to the rain. "Ya know, I think ya have the Italian temper."  
  
"Eh?" I took off my hat and eyed him placidly.  
  
"Yeah," he continued slowly. "Ya stay angry forever. Like me." He sat up and looked at me. I had the sudden urge to throw the potted plant at him, but as I could think of no logical reason to I decided not to. Maybe that's just what he wanted me to do, anyways. Maybe he just wanted to catch it and then chase me around with it. Nah, better keep in safely tucked beneath my arm where he couldn't get at it.  
  
He leaned closer. "Famous, I got sommat to tell you," he said softly. His shirt was slightly open, I noted, as though he had forgotten to button it. I resisted the impulse to close it for him.  
  
Race reached into his pocket. His face was extremely close to mine. Oh Lord, he was taking out another potted plant. What was I going to do? I was going to be attacked by potted plants, and nobody would care because Spot and I were very mad at each other at the moment. People usually tend to take Spot Conlon's side in arguments. It's really funny how such a little guy can intimidate so many people.  
  
"Whoa whoa whoa!" I said suddenly, holding up my hands in surrender. "Before ya throw it at me, could ya please just tell Skittery that I'm sorry I lost his special wooden spoon and tell Harriet I say goodbye?"  
  
Race blinked. "Um. . .Okay." He tilted his head to the side and frowned at me.  
  
"You. . .WERE gonna throw another potted plant at my head, weren't you?" I said uncertainly.  
  
"Uh, no. I was just wondering if you wanted a gumdrop," he answered, grinning and pulling one out of his pocket.  
  
"NOOOOO!" I yelled. "NOT GUMDROPS! THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME! YA GAVE ME A GUMDROP AND THEN YA TOLD ME YA DIDN'T LIKE THE SONG FROM SNOW WHITE AND THE SEVEN DWARFS AND THEN YA TRIED TO KILL ME WITH POTTED PLANTS!!!!" I put my hat back on my head and ran back into the Lodging House, yelling at the top of my lungs.  
  
Race shrugged and ate the gumdrop himself.  
  
*****  
  
Temporary Racetrack's POV  
  
"Hey Famous!" I called out softly, peering into the dark sleeping quarters.  
  
"Yeah?" she answered from the bathroom.  
  
"What're ya doin'?"  
  
"Tryin' to drown myself in the toilet."  
  
"Oh, okay. G'night."  
  
"G'night."  
  
*****  
  
Famous' POV again  
  
I woke up the next morning with the strange urge to wash my face. Looking in the mirror, I remembered that I still had a squiggly moustache drawn over my upper lip. It looked quite nice, though. Maybe people on the streets would think I was crazy and buy papers from me.  
  
"Hee hee, I've always wanted FACIAL HAIR!" Itey giggled as he brushed his teeth with his finger.  
  
"Well at least yours matches the color of your normal hair," Dutchy whined.  
  
"Aw shaddup, ya look fine," Specs answered.  
  
"Thank you!"  
  
"AIN'T IT A FINE LIFE!" Race yelled.  
  
"Alright boys, get the hell outta the Lodging House and go sell your papes!" Kloppman said, smiling and rubbing his temples. "You made a hell of a noise last night. What the hell were you doing?"  
  
"HOW MANY TIMES CAN YOU SAY 'HELL' IN ONE SENTENCE!" Itey yelled. "Blasphemy, Kloppman, I'm ashamed of you."  
  
"Saying 'hell' isn't blasphemy," said Jack, frowning. "Blasphemy is like sayin' Jesus and God and stuff."  
  
"AHHHH! YOU SAID THOSE WORDS AND YOU'RE NOT IN CHURCH! Blasphemy, Jack, I'm ashamed of you," said Itey, and he hopped away with a huge grin under his squiggly moustache.  
  
Jack looked at me. "I didn't mean to!" he sobbed. "Am I not gonna go to heaven?" He burst into tears and grabbed me in a hug.  
  
"Don't worry, Jack, you weren't gonna go to heaven anyways," I told him supportively, my voice rather muffled because I was crushed against him.  
  
He sniffed and let go of me. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Okay, good." He tied his bandana around his neck and hopped away after Itey. Race and I looked at each other, then he shrugged and we hopped out of the Lodging House too. Hopping is fun.  
  
We sold together for most of the morning, until we reached Central Park around noon. Race had sold half of his papes. I had sold almost half. Okay. . .not almost half. All right, I admit the image of him throwing potted plants at me was distracting me just a little. . .and I had only sold ten. (The headlines of which ended up sounding like: "Potted Venus Fly Trap in Pulitzer's Bedroom Almost Strangles Him" and "Hearst's Wife Tries To Kill Him By Throwing Potted Plants At His Head". . .but I digress.)  
  
Anyway, when we reached Central Park Mush rushed up to us with Blink right behind him. He grabbed Race roughly by the shoulders and yelled, "WHERE OH WHERE HAS MY BELOVED HARRIET GONE!!!!!"  
  
Race raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"  
  
"HARRIET!" he screamed. "MY ONLY FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE-"  
  
Blink kicked him.  
  
"-except for Blink, of course. WHERE HAS SHE GONE?????" And with that he ran off several feet and flung himself onto the ground.  
  
Race turned to me. "Who the hell is Harriet?" he demanded.  
  
"Oh, and suddenly ya expect me to have a MEMORY!" I said.  
  
"Harriet- you know, the ugly bug he kissed. . ." Blink explained. "Ya know: 'Once a lonely caterpillar sat and cried'-"  
  
"Aaaah!" Race yelled, clapping a hand over Blink's mouth, "NOT AGAIN!"  
  
"Where oh where has my Harriet gone? Oh where oh were can she be? With her brains so short and her legs so long, oh where oh where can she be?" Mush cried, sitting and drawing a rather odd picture of his bug in the dirt.  
  
"EWWWW!" Race yelled suddenly, pulling his hand off Blink's face. "Ack, man, he LICKED ME!"  
  
I started to laugh. (No surprise there, eh?)  
  
"This is NOT a laughing matter!" Mush scolded. "My beloved Harriet the bug is gone, and now I am alone and deserted in this cruel cruel world! My only other friend is off licking Racetrack's hand, and now I am condemned to draw pictures in the dirt of Central Park. OH, DEAR HARRIET, WHEREVER YOU ARE, KNOW ONLY THAT I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF! I SHALL FIND YOU IF IT IS THE LAST THING I DO, OR SHALL DIE IN THE PROCESS! THAT IS A VOW!" He then raised his face to the sky and fell backwards.  
  
Blink was looking very concerned. "Ya don't think he'll seriously kill himself if he can't find her, will he?"  
  
"Blink, your best friend is in love with an insect," I said seriously. "Ya know how screwy love can be; haven't you ever heard of Romeo and Juliet?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Oh, well they fall in love and then kill themselves 'cause they're sad that they can't be together."  
  
"Oh. That's lovely."  
  
"Without doubt."  
  
Race seemed to come out of a deep reverie. "So. . .what does 'condemned' mean, anyway?" he said finally.  
  
"Condemned?" I repeated. "Verb: to pronounce judgment against; sentence. I'm not sure Mush used it quite correctly, but I'll lend him my 'Revised Edition of Webster's II New Riverside Dictionary' when he's out of his suicidal frame of mind."  
  
Blink and Race stared at me. Then Race gave me the 'I'm not even going to ask' look and tucked his papers under his arm. "Well, Blink, I hope you find Harriet before Mush goes overboard. And Mush," he called over to him (who was now dancing around central park and singing "NOOOOBODY KNOWS THE TROUBLES I'VE SEEN!!!!!" before an ever-growing crowd of onlookers), "take care o' yerself, alright?"  
  
Mush looked straight at him. "NOOOOBODY KNOWS BUT JEEEEESUUS!"  
  
"Hmm, glad Itey isn't here," I said. "Blasphemy. I'm ashamed of Mush."  
  
*****  
  
Shoutouts!!!  
  
ershey: You know, the scary part is Race wasn't even drunk when he ate the caterpillar. Yeah, he's a nutcase. . .I'm glad the ant is gone from your computer screen (lol, that was hilarious!!!). And YES, there were magic markers in 1899!!! lol, thanks so much for the review!!!  
  
ShortAtntionSpaz: I couldn't go to the URL you sent me for some reason. . .my computer hates me, I guess. Pooh. Aaaanyway, thank you thank you thank you for the review! Those little parenthesized things at the end of your reviews are hysterical!!! (And if I had glasses, I'd make sure never to put them in the microwave.)  
  
Trolley: I won't ask about your friend feeling up a mounted fish at Texas Roadhouse. . .Truth or dare is a terrifying game. ;-) Thanks so much for the review, you rock!!!  
  
Sapphy: Well now Skittery is hopping around singing "HAKUNA MATATA! WHAT A WONDERFUL PHRASE!" (That means he's very happy.) And Blink is fighting for control of the computer because he wants to tell you that he'd simply LOVE to give you a squiggly moustache too. Feel honored. My muses usually hate everybody, particularly me, but they adore you! Your reviews are wonderful! Thank you so much!!! (And I like the idea of Twister. . .;-) )  
  
Author's Note: I'm really sorry, I didn't mean for this chapter to turn out this way. I know it ended up being very pointless. . .and the whole "mortally afraid of potted plants" thing was a bit bizarre. . .but I'll try to make the next chapter much more. . .eventful. lol  
  
-Saturday 


	5. Not as tonedeaf as Cowboy

Author's Note: On the verge of writer's block. You know how sometimes you feel like your muses are about to throw you off a big cliff (like Pride Rock in the Lion King- oooh, man, I love that movie) but they want you to teeter there for a little while and pretend you don't have writer's block but really you do and they're laughing at you behind their hands? Honestly, if my muses weren't so damn hot I'd just get rid of them completely. They do me no good whatsoever.  
  
Another Author's Note: Oh, by the way, I know this chapter is very short and very pointless. I just felt like putting my darling Queens boys in the story because I love them so and because I want you to remember that Famous is not really a Manhattan newsie. I think I'll post another chapter after it where something actually HAPPENS, so that anybody who's actually waiting to read more isn't too mad at me.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I own the IDEA of Famous, but not her name. Wait- I own the Queens boys (and maybe girls, I am still trying to decide whether Chip will be male or female). WOO HOO! Other than that, I don't own any of the newsies or any place the newsies go or Sherlock Holmes (Cake's and my hero) or anything. Life sucks.  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Five - Not as Tone-Deaf as Cowboy  
  
"I KNEW you liked the Manhattan boys better than us!" Chip bellowed. "I knew you were gonna stay at the Manhattan Lodging House instead of here! Asshole!"  
  
Chip is like me: he likes to make really bad jokes. "Yeah, you're right," I answered, putting on my hat leaning against the doorframe. "I hate you guys. You never leave me alone and I am fed up, so I've decided I'm transferring to become a Manhattan newsie."  
  
"OH YEAH!" Chip yelled. "YA HEAR THAT, ROUNDER, I'M SECOND IN COMMAND!!!" The other boys burst into laugher as he and Rounder did their famous victory dance in a circle around the room, holding hands and hopping slightly.  
  
"OPEN THE GATES AND SEIZE THE DAY!" Chip shouted.  
  
"DON'T BE AFRAID AND DON'T DELAY!" Rounder yelled back.  
  
"You guys always scare the shit outta me," I said loudly over the noise. "I've changed my mind, I'm stayin' here. It's nice to be with other people who have wretchedly off-key voices."  
  
Chip bowed. Rounder grinned and blew a strand of his shaggy blonde hair out of his dark eyes. "Well we ain't as bad as Cowboy," he said seriously. He got down on one knee and sang in an overly discordant voice, "Santa- Feeeee! Are ya theeeere! Do ya swear ya won't forget meeeeee! If I found ya wouldjya let me come and staaaaaay! 'Cause me boys can't stand my singin'! It's been getting' worse each day-"  
  
"Hey, Jack ain't that bad!" I said between laughs, but he continued loudly.  
  
"-faces turn bluuuuuue, yes they doooooooooo, when I start to siiiiiiiiiing! Who the hell decided to give me a soloooooo? What kind of moron thought that I could sing? Most people hear me and want to drop dead, as my awful voice resounds in their head!"  
  
I was doubled up with laugher; Rounder sounded exactly like Jack for some reason. Chip was leaning on me, trying desperately to breathe. Rounder stood up straight again and smiled. "That's all I can think of at the moment," he said.  
  
"Well I liked it," I answered. "C'mon, let's go play poker."  
  
*****  
  
You have no idea how hard it is to play poker when a.) your opponent has the most well-developed poker faces in Queens, b.) if you lose you'll have to beg from Chip for money to pay your rent (not generally a fun thing to do), and c.) several of your boys are breathing down your neck. My cards weren't that bad, but the pressure was really starting to get to me. And guess what?  
  
I lost.  
  
Oh well, I though as Rounder gleefully gathered up the money. I didn't really mind; the only thing that annoyed me was that he was almost drunk and he still beat me. He gets all sleepy and giggly when he drinks (kinda like Racetrack). On any other night that would be amusing, but I was just irritated that he was smarter than me when he was drunk.  
  
Hey, I know I'm stupid! He didn't have to rub it in my face. Sheesh.  
  
"Hahahaha!" he was yelling. "I have two dollars and seventy-six cents! AWESOME! I'm king of the world! I can buy anything I want!"  
  
"I don't think he's ever had more than ten cents in his pocket at one time," Steel muttered to me.  
  
"Doesn't he sell his papes?" I whispered back.  
  
He grinned. "Nah, just eats 'em."  
  
"What the fuck?"  
  
"Jeez, Famous, I was just kiddin'!" he laughed. "And by the way, it says gullible on the ceiling."  
  
I looked. He was lying, it didn't say that anywhere. Man, that kid needs to get his eyes checked. Sees things all over the place.  
  
"'Open the window then! You have been at your club all day, I perceive.' 'My dear Holmes!' 'Am I right?' 'Certainly, but how-?' He laughed at my bewildered expression. 'There is a delightful freshness about you, Watson, which makes it a pleasure to exercise any small powers which I possess at your expense. A gentleman goes forth on a showery and miry day. He returns immaculate in the evening with the gloss still on his hat and boots. He has been at a fixture, therefore, all day. He is not a man with intimate friends. Where, then, could he have been? Is it not obvious?' 'Well, it is rather obvious.' 'The world is full of obvious things which nobody by any chance ever observes. Where do you think I have been?' 'A fixture also.' 'On the contrary, I have been to Devonshire.' 'In spirit?' 'Exactly. My body has remained in this armchair; and has, I regret to observe, consumed in my absence two large pots of coffee and an incredible amount of tobacco.'"  
  
"Dear God, he's quoting that friggin' Sherlock Holmes again," Steel groaned.  
  
Cake waltzed around the room, apparently deep in conversation with an invisible Watson. We all watched with interest. "That," he said airily to us all, "was from page 225 of 'The Hound of the Baskervilles', a Sherlock Holmes classic."  
  
"Great, Cake," said Chip.  
  
"I HAVE MONEY!!!!!" Rounder yelled.  
  
"I love mysteries," said Cake.  
  
"I'm going to bed," I said.  
  
Little did I realize just how useful Cake's obsession with the old detective would prove to be. At the time I just found it annoying. . .but that was before. . .things. . .started. . .to. . .happen. "DUN DUN DUNNNNNN!" I said aloud.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?" said Steel.  
  
"You don't wanna know," I answered, grinning. "G'night, fellers."  
  
"G'night." 


	6. Attack of the Killer Chicken!

Author's Note: Hmm, this chapter certainly proved to be interesting. There are a lot of capital letters. It's all kind of weird looking because of that. . . I also apologize for any stupid bathroom jokes and excessive randomness in this chapter. I was in a rather bizarre mood when I wrote it, so beware!!! Anyways, here it is.  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own the song lyrics, Famous, the newsies, or anything associated with the movie. . .I do own, however, Cake, Steel, Rounder, Chip, Baxter, the wooden spoon, Harriet, the toilet plunger, and the chicken. My, that list is growing stranger by the minute.  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Six - Attack of the Killer Chicken  
  
"NOOOOOO! NONONONONONONONONONONONONO!!!! NO! NOOOOOOOO-"  
  
"Chip, shut the hell up! I'm gonna throw you out the window if ya don't get off me!"  
  
"But FAAAAMOUS, you AAALWAAAAYS leave us AAALL AAAAAAALOOOOOONE when you go to Manhattan! It ain't FAAAAAAIR!"  
  
"By my heel, I care not."  
  
Chip detached himself from my waist and raised and eyebrow at me. "And what is that you're quoting at me?"  
  
"Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet." Hmm, that has come up much more often than usual. I hope it won't turn out to be a sign of what is gonna happen in the future; I don't fancy dying for love.  
  
"He's a tramp, he's a scoundrel, he's a ROUNDER, he's a cad! He's a traaaaaamp, but I love him! Yes, and even I have got it pretty bad!" sang I'm-Sure-You-Can-Guess-Who.  
  
"Woo hoo, Rounder, that song has your name in it," said Chip impassively. "Tell me, do you ever stop singing?"  
  
"I COULD HAVE SAAAAAAANG ALL NIIIIIIIGHT, I COULD HAVE SAAAAAAANG ALL NIIIIIIGHT!" was the indifferent reply.  
  
"Those ain't even the real words!" Chip grumbled.  
  
"By my heel, I care n-"  
  
"WHY IS EVERYONE QUOTING SHAKESPEARE AT ME??? I BARELY KNOW WHO THE BLOODY GUY IS!!!!" he exploded.  
  
Rounder smiled sweetly from beneath his shaggy blonde bangs. "Well, that's your problem, isn't it?" He then cleared his throat and sang: "Ooooooh, what a beautiful moooooooorniiiiiiiiing! Ooooooooh, what a beautiful daaaaaaaaay! IIIIIIIIIIII've got a beautiful feeeeeeeeeling-"  
  
I decided to dash out the door while Chip was distracted (he was trying to suffocate Rounder with a pillow while yelling "IT AIN'T MORNIN', IT'S NIGHT!") so that he wouldn't have the chance to leap on me again. It's not that he really cares I'm leaving; he just enjoys making weird noises at me. One time, at Tibby's, I told him I was going back to finish selling my papes and he smiled and me and said "QUACK!"  
  
He's a rather odd duck, don't ya think? (Hahaha, I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. . .but do you get it? Like he said "Quack" and he's an odd DUCK? Heh heh. . .Okay, I'll stop.)  
  
I get sidetracked way too easily. Okay, where was I?  
  
Hmm.  
  
Oh yeah!  
  
So I dashed out the door. It would have been much more effective had it not taken about forty-five minutes to get to my destination (the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House, if you haven't made that connection yet).  
  
"Heya Famous, how ya been?" said Kloppman cheerfully when I arrived. One of the things I like about him is that he always pretends he hasn't seen you for ages and ages, even if you were just at the Lodging House the day before. Baxter (the Queens "babysitter", as we like to call him), on the other hand, will yell "Why the hell are you back again!" if you turn up twice in a row. He's a nice guy; he's just a little strange.  
  
But then again, isn't everyone in Queens a little strange?  
  
"Heya Klopp-" I answered, but was cut off by Race slamming into me from nowhere.  
  
"FAMOUS!" he yelled. "YA GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE! THERE'S A KILLER CHICKEN ON THE LOOSE AND IT'S TRYIN' TO KILL US ALL!"  
  
"What the hell?" I said, blinking.  
  
"A KILLER CHICKEN!" he repeated. "GO HOME, THIS AIN'T NO PLACE FOR A LADY!"  
  
"A killer chicken? Dude, can I see?" I asked.  
  
"Okay."  
  
The two of us headed up the stairs and into the sleeping quarters. Race hopped about nervously, clinging to my arm. Once we reached the top of the stairs, I looked around curiously. "Uh, Race? Everythin' looks exactly the same as it did last night," I said slowly.  
  
"HEY FAMOUS!" Boots yelled from his bed.  
  
"HEY BOOTS!" I yelled back.  
  
"No!" whispered Race. "The killer chicken is lurkin', unseen, in some corner, waitin' to LUNGE OUT AND ATTACK! I gotta use the can."  
  
"Yeah, me too," I said. We paraded into the bathroom and got into a stall. (Ew, nasty thoughts! We were each in a DIFFERENT stall. . .ew.) I hummed happily as I peed. "Hey Race! Are ya goin' number one or number two?"  
  
"Number one."  
  
"Same here!"  
  
"What a coinciden- AAAAAAAAAAAAH! IT'S IN THE POTTY!!!!!"  
  
I got myself some toilet paper. "Well pee is usually in the potty, Race. Are you trying to imply that you typically miss the toilet? Hmm! I would think that boys would pee accurately more often than not, 'cause they sorta have something to aim with. . .of course, I wouldn't know 'cause I don't have a-"  
  
"NO! ACK, FAMOUS, THE CHICKEN! IT'S- IT'S IN FUCKING THE POTTY!! AAAAAAAH! HELP!!!!!!!!"  
  
Well, what would you have done? I held my hat to my head as I pulled up my pants and said the first thing that came to mind: "Race- FLUSH!"  
  
And he did.  
  
I zipped up my pants, hopped out of the stall, and promptly crashed into Race who had apparently been doing the exact same thing. The two of us fell backwards back into my stall, landing beside the toilet with him pretty much in my lap.  
  
"Where would I be without you, Famous?" he asked, smiling up at me.  
  
"On the floor," I answered seriously.  
  
And you know what? We actually started to laugh. Our very lives were in danger and we were sitting on the bathroom floor, laughing our freakin' heads off. It was a very bad joke, I must say, but for some reason it seemed very funny at the moment. So we laughed, and would probably have continued to laugh for quite a long time had a dark shadow not fallen over us.  
  
It was classic. Both Race and I stopped laughing at the exact same moment, and slowly raised our heads to look up at the terrifying beast before us.  
  
The killer chicken was about a foot tall, with beady little eyes and a sharp yellow beak. It was sopping wet, probably from being flushed down the toilet, and the fuzzy feathers on top of its head were arched up in an unmistakable sign of displeasure. It opened its beak and let out a mighty "CAW!"  
  
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Race and I yelled. It was the most frightening thing that has ever happened to me. "FAMOUS! FAMOUS, WE NEED A WEAPON!" Race hollered.  
  
"The toilet plunger!" I exclaimed. That beloved plunger has helped me through thick and thin; I was worried it might meet its end during the battle against the chicken, but what better way for it to die than by defending its best friend? (Me.) I reached around the toilet and my fingers closed around a smooth wooden surface. It wasn't the toilet plunger.  
  
"Well I'll be!" I exclaimed happily. "It's Skittery's darling wooden spoon! Won't he be thrilled to have it back! He's been pining for it for such a long time!"  
  
"FAMOUS! WEAPON!" shrieked Race, his voice cracking out of fear.  
  
"Oh yeah!" I reached around the potty again and this time managed to get my hands on the plunger. "Here you go," I said, handing it to him.  
  
"Thank you!"  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
One think I'm proud of is that I taught Racetrack some decent manners in the time that we have been friends.  
  
Race brandished the plunger at the chicken. "BACK, KILLER CHICKEN, BACK!" he yelled.  
  
The chicken blinked. I think it was stunned at our stupidity. What kind of people fight with a toilet plunger, anyways? Then it came to its senses and tried to peck at Race's arm. We both screamed (well, more like yelled. . .we aren't really the high-pitched screaming type, are we?) and he once again wielded the toilet plunger. And this time, a miracle occurred.  
  
The chicken's head got stuck in the rubber end of the plunger.  
  
Race and I stared at the killer chicken for a minute, as it bounced around and then fell over. Then we turned to each other. "WE BEAT IT!!!" we bellowed happily. "HOORAY!"  
  
The bathroom door opened, and Jack, Blink, Mush, Specs, Skittery, and Dutchy all poked their heads in. Dutchy blinked and scooped the killer chicken up into his arms. "I shall name her Alice, and she shall by mine," he said proudly.  
  
"MY SPOON!" Skittery shrieked, hopping over Dutchy and snatching the utensil from me. "WHERE DID YOU FIND IT? OH, I'VE MISSED IT SO!"  
  
"It was sitting beside the potty," I said perplexedly.  
  
"Oh yeah," he said thoughtfully. He smiled. "I guess I had been playing with it but then had to go to the bathroom but I couldn't bare to part with it so I brought it with me but then Dutchy came into the stall by accident- "  
  
Dutchy giggled. "Skittery screams like a goil."  
  
"-and I chased him out of the bathroom and down the stairs and out the door before realizing my pants were still down-"  
  
Dutchy giggled again. "Skittery screamed like a goil again."  
  
"-and forgot that my beloved spoon was still in the bathroom!" Skittery held the spoon to his cheek, smiling vaguely. "But now! Oh, now, my love!" Suddenly a spotlight appeared on the toilet seat, and he stepped onto it and began to sing from his mini-stage: "Toniiiiiiiiiight, toniiiiiiiiight, I'll see my looooooooove toniiiiiiiiight! Toniiiiiiiiiight there will be nooooooooo morning staaaaaaaaar!"  
  
"Ack, West Side Story," I grumbled. "Why does Romeo and Juliet keep turning up?"  
  
"Dunno." Skittery shrugged and leaned against the bathroom stall. "Maybe it's an omen; you and some dude will fall desperately in love."  
  
"And then die. The end," I said grimly. "C'mon, let's get out of this place before the killer chicken gets its head out of the plunger and tries to peck at Race's arm again."  
  
Race shuddered. "Famous?. . .Can I have a hug?"  
  
"Yeah," I said benevolently, and gave him a big hug to make him feel better.  
  
"Don't worry, Race," Blink added, "if the chicken tries to hurt you, I'll just whip out of trusty magic marker and give it a squiggly moustache- AAAAAAAAAH! WHERE DID MY MAGIC MARKER GO?????"  
  
We all stood there, shocked. "W-what?" said Mush.  
  
"MY MAGIC MARKER! WHERE DID IT GO? WHO TOOK IT? I NEED MY MAGIC MARKER! AAAAAAAAAH!" He then went through his pockets, took off his shirt, shook it out of about a minute, put it back on inside-out, took off his left shoe, looked inside, almost fainted from the smell coming from it, threw it into the sink, and ran out of the building yelling "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"  
  
"Oh dear," said Specs.  
  
*****  
  
It was later, and I was in the middle of an intense discussion with Race about what condiments are best on hot dogs. I was just voicing my opinion that radishes are just plain nasty and I can't imagine why anyone would want to put them on a hot dog, when I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders. "Why hello, Famous," said Jack in a melodramatic voice.  
  
"Heya Cowboy, get your hands the hell off me!" I answered cheerfully.  
  
He didn't move his hands (but I didn't really care, he's hot anyways) but he poked his head over my shoulder so I could see his grin. "We've come to a decision," he said.  
  
"Oh yeah?" said Race mildly. "That's nice. So, Cowboy, tell me. What do you like better on your hot dogs: ketchup, mustard, or mayonnaise?"  
  
"Mayo ROCKS!"  
  
"Aw man, that's disgusting! Who the hell puts mayonnaise on their hot dogs?" I demanded. "It just smells disgusting and sits all clumpy on the hot dog. Now MUSTARD is much better."  
  
Race let out a loud cough, which sounded suspiciously like "it matches your hair". Jack started to laugh.  
  
Mush cleared his throat. I turned, and noticed for the first time that almost all of the other Manhattan newsboys were standing there listening. "Well, boys?" I called. "What's your favorite condiment?"  
  
"MUSTARD!!!!!" Itey yelled.  
  
"OH YEAH! VIRTUAL HIGH-FIVE!!!" I yelled back, and we both pretended to do a high five above the heads of the other boys.  
  
Mush cleared his throat again. He looked really funny. I wonder why he was coughing so much. Jack blinked. "Oh yeah, sorry Mush! Got a little sidetracked. All that talk of mayonnaise. . ."  
  
"Ew, stop," I groaned.  
  
"Okay- oh yeah! Sorry Mush! Got sidetracked again. Okay, here I go." He put his hands back on my shoulders and his voice got that overdramatic quality again. "We've come to a decision," he repeated.  
  
"You already said that," Race pointed out.  
  
Beads of sweat appeared on Jack's forehead. "I can't do this, Mush!" he sobbed. "I'm just not cut out for this kind of work!"  
  
"It's okay, pal, it's okay," Mush said supportively, patting him on the back. "I'll take over from here, alright? Okay, let's cut the crap and get moving." (You know, I don't think I've EVER heard Mush use the phrase "cut the crap". I didn't think he was physically capable of swearing, however minor the cuss may be. Hmm! Learn something new every day!) "Boys, are ya ready? Go!"  
  
Race and I suddenly found ourselves on the shoulders of the crowd, being swept down the stairs towards Kloppman's room. "RACE!" I yelled over the noise. "I THINK THEY'RE GONNA EAT US!"  
  
"NO! THEY'RE GONNA FEED US TO THE KILLER CHICKEN!" he called back, terrified.  
  
"HEEELLLLLP!" we screamed.  
  
The boys dumped us in Kloppman's room, onto his bed. "I DON'T WANNA DIE!" Race hollered.  
  
"Uh, guys? Won't Kloppy be pissed if we mess up his room too much?" I said.  
  
"Nope, he totally supports us," Jack told me.  
  
"Oh, okay."  
  
"I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! IT AIN'T FAIR! AND I THOUGHT YOU GUYS WERE MY FRIENDS!" Race continued to holler.  
  
"Shaddup, Race, nobody's gonna feed you to the chicken," Skittery groaned.  
  
"Really? Cool!"  
  
I raised my eyebrows at them all, waiting for an explanation. "So. What, pray tell, is goin' on!?"  
  
"You'll see," said Mush mysteriously. I must say, he was very good at these theatrics. I got shivers down my spine just from listening to him. "Just wait and see. . ." They all left the room and shut the door.  
  
Race and I stared at the door, listening to the lock click and the boys hop away, giggling madly. I heard Jack say something: "If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer; his glory shall be ours, for we are the only love gods!"  
  
"Okay, what's with the Shakespeare?" Mush demanded. Their voiced faded away as they all went back upstairs.  
  
I looked at Race. "That was from 'Much Ado About Nothing', wasn't it?"  
  
"Mm-hmm."  
  
"How long ya think they're gonna keep us in here?"  
  
"Dunno."  
  
I chewed on a strand of my hair and the shrugged. "So. . .Back to hot dogs."  
  
*****  
  
Shoutouts!!!  
  
Trolley: Dude, exclamation points totally rock!!! :-) lol, thank you so much for the review!!! Man, you really made my blush, huge hug for you!!!  
  
Sapphy: Aaah, you're gonna hate me for this but I've never seen a Goofy Movie! (*Shrinks back in shame*) So, as far as I know, the Lion King is still FIRST! Hooray! lol. . .well now, as a result of your rather flirty reviews toward my muses, Skittery is singing "WE NEED TO SIIING WITH ALL THE VOICES OF THE MOUNTAAAAIN!!! WE NEED TO PAAAINT WITH ALL THE COLORS OF THE WIIIIND!" (Mostly we've figured that means he's either very happy or wishing he had a raccoon best friend. You aren't a raccoon, are you?) Blink is busy trying to figure out how to mail you a moustache, and Jack is pondering what he could give you in return for you speaking to God about letting him into heaven.  
  
Wait, hold on. . .  
  
He says "But isn't my sexiness enough for you???"  
  
It's up to you; my muses worship you (and I must say I'm rather jealous!) Thanks so much for the review!  
  
ershey: Of course there were magic markers in 1899! And Blink would very much like to mail you your very own personalized one in the color of your choice. (His is black because he isn't very creative, but they also come in green and pink.) I know, I can't believe Harriet's gone! But never fear, it will all end happily! :-) Thanks so much for the reviews!!!  
  
*  
  
Author's Note: Dunno if I like the final product. I was working on it while were visiting my relatives in Florida, and then left the notebook in the rental car. This made me feel mad because I'd have to write this all over again, and sympathetic because some unfortunate soul will end up finding the notebook and inevitably reading some of the contents. They are in for a bit of a scare. . . At any rate, please review! I know the last part was kinda confusing, but it should clear up in the next chapter. I think I'm gonna do the beginning from Jack's POV, just so that people know what is going on. ('Cause he and Mush have a "scathingly brilliant idea". . .hey, I'll give a chocolate- covered newsie to anyone who knows what movie that's from! lol, well if I ever get my hands on a chocolate-covered newsie, that is. . .See you in a few days when I update again!)  
  
-Saturday 


	7. Mopping Outside

Author's Note: I was thinking this chapter may be the beginning where everything starts tying together, but I'm not sure WHAT is going to happen. . .It should be kind of random (like the rest of the chapters) but. . .yeah.  
  
Disclaimer: I own Cake, Chip, Steel, Rounder, and the mop. Nothing else- no newsies, no Nirvana or Aretha Franklin lyrics, nothing. Hmph.  
  
By the Way: The song lyrics are marked with $$$$$ because I am in desperate need of money and seeing the little money symbol makes me feel not-so- broke. I am also incapable of figuring out how to do italics or bold or anything, and this chapter is twice as confusing if you can't tell the lyrics from the actual text. Again: Hmph. I'm sorry I'm rambling. . .I'll bet half of you just skipped the Author's Note, and that is perfectly understandable. Okay, here we go: CHAPTER 7!  
  
*****  
  
Chapter 7 - Mopping Outside  
  
*****  
  
Jack's POV (as promised)  
  
It was the perfect plan.  
  
You see, Mush and I have figured something out. Racetrack Higgins and Famous Williams are madly in love with each other. . .they just don't know it yet. But they will soon. I think locking them in a room together for 12 hours will knock some sense into them. . .unless they are really quite as stupid as they seem to be.  
  
But I honestly don't think it is possible for someone to be THAT incredibly dense.  
  
I awoke Sunday morning to Kid Blink's loud sobbing. "GONE!" he cried into his pillow. "ALL GONE! MY BELOVED MAGIC MARKER, ALL ALONE IN THE WORLD WITH- WITH NO ONE TO TALK TO AND- AND- OH, WHAT A WORLD, WHAT A CRUEL CRUEL WORLD!" He broke off into hysterical blubbering.  
  
"Still haven't found it, eh?" said Dutchy sleepily.  
  
Blink looked up, chewing on the piece of his pillow he had apparently just bitten off, and glared at him with red-rimmed eyes. "NO, I HAVEN'T! AND NO THANKS TO YOU! THE LOT OF YOU DON'T EVEN CARE! DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!"  
  
He hopped up onto the bunk above his bed, which happened to be Mush's. "DON'T YOU SEE? YOU'RE NEVER GONNA HAVE ANOTHER SQUIGGLY MOUSTACHE! YOU'RE NEVER GONNA FEEL THE SMOOTH PLASTIC UNDER YOUR FINGERS AND THE JOY OF GOIN' TO WORK EACH DAY WITH INK FACIAL HAIR TATTOED ONTO YOUR FACE! THIS IS THE END OF ALL THE JOY IN THE WORLD!!!!"  
  
Mush sat up groggily, looking up from between Blink's legs and yawning. (No, not looking up AT between Blink's legs. . .man, Blink was standing OVER him, okay? Man! We are entirely straight guys!) "What are you doin', Blink?"  
  
"LECTURIN' THEM ON THE TERRORS OF NOT HAVING A MAGIC MARKER!" Blink screamed.  
  
"Oh, okay, you do that," said Mush, and he went back to sleep.  
  
I decided to get out of the sleeping quarters before Blink went berserk again. "Mush, I'm checking on the two love-birds downstairs, okay?" I said. (Dude, if Famous could hear me calling her a love-bird. . .*shudder*.) Mush giggled, mumbled something about elephants, and rolled over. I took that as an "Okay, go and check on them, I don't care because I am sleepy and I don't want to have to get up until Kloppman lunges at me and drags me out of bed," so I went downstairs by myself.  
  
I couldn't hear anything from Kloppman's room, where Famous and Race hanging about, so I knocked before entering. God knows what would happen if I were to come in in the middle of something. . .*again, shudder*.  
  
"Come in!" said Race cheerfully.  
  
I unlocked and opened the door, my eyebrows raised in mild surprise. Race never says anything cheerful in the morning.  
  
He and Famous were sitting on the bed in their PJ's. I have no idea when they changed, or, in that case, how they got their PJ's in the first place. When I asked Famous, she simply explained that they had gotten them during the night.  
  
I checked the lock. It hadn't been messed with. Man, they can be really creepy sometimes. I'm beginning to think they're possessed.  
  
"Ya know, Jack, we- that is to say, Famous and me- and very thankful for ya fellers," said Race.  
  
"Oh yeah?" I didn't look up from the lock, not really interested.  
  
"Yeah. If it weren't for you, we would never have come to the decision that we have come to," Famous added.  
  
"Hmm? And what's that?" I asked keenly, finally looking up. This was the moment of truth, the time when I would see if I was really capable of playing matchmaker.  
  
"Yeah." She glanced at Race. "We have decided that hot dogs really taste best with a combination of mustard, ketchup, and caterpillars.  
  
I was in total shock.  
  
"That's. . .ALL you guys did all night?" I managed to stutter.  
  
"Well ya know how little Famous and I agree on. . ." Race began.  
  
"Shit!" I said. "Shit shit shit shit SHIT! Goddammit! Augh! Why the hell do you have to be so damn. . .AUGH! I dunno what I'm gonna fuckin' do with you!"  
  
I chose to leave then, before Race started throwing things at me because he was mad that I didn't care about their magnificent discovery. Lord, sometimes they're just so thick it's funny.  
  
And sometimes, like now, it's not so funny.  
  
*****  
  
Famous' POV (again)  
  
Race and I were rather confused about why Jack had gone into a swearing fit when we told him what we had determined. . .actually, we were still rather confused about why we had been locked in Klopp's room for the night in the first place. But we didn't really mind. It was fun.  
  
"LUCY, I'M HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOME!" yelled Rounder.  
  
"Where the hell did you come from?" Jack demanded.  
  
"RICKY!" I yelled, running up to him and giving him a hug.  
  
"Okay, WHO let them watch the 'I Love Lucy' reruns?" Mush wanted to know.  
  
"I did," said Racetrack.  
  
"Of course!" said Jack, throwing his hands up in the air.  
  
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE QUEENS BOYS HAVE ARRIVED!" Chip hollered, coming up behind Rounder. There was a bit of unenthusiastic applause and Itey let out a sarcastic "Woo hoo."  
  
Cake hopped lightly through Chip's legs and slapped me a high-five. "How's it rollin', Cake?" I said.  
  
"Not bad!" he replied. He began to say, "You doin' good too?" but was cut off because Specs crashed into him and knocked him over.  
  
"What the hell?" Cake demanded, trying to get up.  
  
"Sorry, Boots, I can't find my glasses," Specs answered, blinking densely.  
  
"I'm Cake, not Boots," said Cake. "Jesus, I don't even LOOK like Boots!"  
  
"Well you're both insanely short," Chip said earnestly.  
  
Cake chose to ignore that. "Lost your glasses, eh?" he said to Specs.  
  
Specs sniffed. "Yeah. And I'm near blind without 'em."  
  
"I can tell," Cake muttered. "Mistakin' me for Boots? What the hell; I'm so much sexier than him. . ."  
  
"Dunno where they got to- I mean, I had them last night, and I never take them off," Specs continued distractedly.  
  
"So you mean. . .it's a mystery?" said Cake slowly.  
  
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" yelled Rounder, throwing himself onto them before Specs could answer. He clapped a strong brown hand over Specs' mouth. "I swear if you tell Cake that there is a mystery to solve, you will regret it for the rest of your life," he whispered in his ear.  
  
"Sorry, Famous," said Specs.  
  
Rounder stared at him. "FAMOUS?" he demanded. "FAMOUS??? Are you trying to tell me I look like FAMOUS?!?!?!?!"  
  
"I dunno, who are you?" said Specs.  
  
"You can't tell by my SIX-PACK?"  
  
"You do NOT have a six-pack," Chip laughed.  
  
"I do too! And you would do well to know that, considering our bunks are next to each other," said Rounder.  
  
"You do NOT have a six-pack," Chip repeated.  
  
"Déjà vu," said Rounder bemusedly.  
  
"Okay. If you have a six-pack, prove it."  
  
"How the hell do you expect me to prove that?"  
  
"Show us."  
  
"Excuse me, I am no prostitute. I do not show off my body to anyone who asks," said Rounder in a classy manner.  
  
"Fine, but I still don't believe you have a six-pack."  
  
"A mystery!" Cake said excitedly, apparently oblivious to everything else that was going on around him. "Oh, how I love mysteries! 'I am but the-'"  
  
"JESUS CHRIST, STOP HIM BEFORE HE STARTS QUOTING SHERLOCK HOLMES AGAIN!" Steel hollered. He looked around the room for a second, and his eyes fell on the sobbing Blink. "What happened, Blinkers?"  
  
"My- my- magic marker," he whispered tearfully. "It's- gone!"  
  
"WHAT? Not- not THE magic marker!" Cake gasped.  
  
"The very one," Blink assured him.  
  
$$$$$  
  
Load up on guns and  
  
Bring your friends  
  
It's fun to lose  
  
And to pretend  
  
She's over bored  
  
And self assured  
  
Oh no, I know  
  
A dirty word  
  
$$$$$  
  
"Um. . .what the hell is goin' on?" said Steel, looking around blankly. There was suddenly music coming out of nowhere, but none of us could find the source.  
  
"So THIS is what it feels like to be in a songfic!" said Race. "Well I'll be! Not bad, eh?"  
  
"I love this song!" I yelled. "'Smells Like Teen Spirit' by Nirvana!"  
  
"NIRVANA RULES!" bellowed Rounder. We decided to jump up and down several times to the beat because we have no lives.  
  
"Who the hell is Nirvana?" said Mush, mystified.  
  
$$$$$  
  
With the lights out it's less dangerous  
  
Here we are now  
  
Entertain us  
  
I feel stupid and contagious  
  
Here we are now  
  
Entertain us  
  
A mulatto  
  
An albino  
  
A mosquito  
  
My Libido  
  
Yeah  
  
$$$$$  
  
"THIS IS THE BEST SONG IN THE WORLD!" Rounder hollered.  
  
"Figures you two'd like it," said Chip. "I mean the lyrics make absolutely no sense."  
  
"Exactly my point. It's the best song in the world," said Rounder, shrugging.  
  
"Anybody wanna play poker?" Race called out.  
  
"Ooooooh, PICK ME PICK ME!" Rounder yelled.  
  
"Wait. . .this is the good verse though!" said Mush. "SHHHHHH!"  
  
$$$$  
  
I'm worse at what I do best  
  
And for this gift I feel blessed  
  
Our little group has always been  
  
And always will until the end  
  
$$$$$  
  
"Guys, where the hell is the music coming from?" Kloppman wanted to know.  
  
"I have NO IDEA!" Jack shouted back.  
  
"'Smells Like Teen Spirit'. . .Well, who would have thought Saturday had such good taste? I mean, I always thought she was a bit of a loser," said Klopp thoughtfully. "Ah well. This song reminds me of the fact that you fellers are going to mop up the dirt the Queens boys just brought in with them."  
  
"How did Nirvana remind him of mopping the dirt we brought?" Rounder asked.  
  
"I bet he was thinking of 'the Plateau'. Ya know, when Kurt Cobain goes 'Nothin' on the top but a bucket and a mop and an illustrated book about birds'. . ."  
  
"Hmm, maybe you're right," said Race. (He had appeared the instant I said 'I bet'.)  
  
"GET THE MOP!" yelled Kloppman.  
  
"Aiiight, keep your pants on!" I yelled back. "Race- come with me, we're going to get the mop!"  
  
$$$$$  
  
With the lights out it's less dangerous  
  
Here we are now  
  
Entertain us  
  
I feel stupid and contagious  
  
Here we are now  
  
Entertain us  
  
A mulatto  
  
An albino  
  
A mosquito  
  
My Libido  
  
Yeah  
  
$$$$$  
  
I heard a bit of laughing as Race and I left the lobby, but didn't think much of it. They're always laughing at me anyways. It's really astonishing that I lasted as leader for about two years; my boys have no respect for me whatsoever.  
  
"Do ya think lockin' them together again will work?" I heard Mush say.  
  
"Well it sure as hell didn't work last time," said Jack grumpily. "Ya know, I still can't figure out how they got their PJ's. I thought Famous had left them in Queens."  
  
"I can fly," said Rounder.  
  
"WHERE THE HELL DID THE MOP GO?" Race demanded.  
  
"IT'S IN HERE!" Itey yelled back.  
  
"No- don't bring them in here, we have to devise our plan," I heard Jack say. "Send them on some wild goose chase into the basement for a minute."  
  
"Race, we're supposed to go on a wild goose chase into the basement," I said.  
  
$$$$$  
  
And I forget  
  
Just why I taste  
  
Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile  
  
I found it hard  
  
It was hard to find  
  
Oh well, whatever, nevermind  
  
$$$$$  
  
"Ooooh, can I be the wild goose?!" Race exclaimed.  
  
"Okay! I'll be the hunter." I cocked my invisible gun. "Be bewwy bewwy quiet; I'm huntin' wabbit!"  
  
Race was confused. "But I'm a goose."  
  
"But I'm huntin' wabbit!"  
  
"Well then the goose and the hunter can be friends!"  
  
"Okay! Let's go and play Ring Around the Rosy in the basement," I suggested.  
  
$$$$$  
  
With the lights out it's less dangerous  
  
Here we are now  
  
Entertain us  
  
I feel stupid and contagious  
  
Here we are now  
  
Entertain us  
  
A mulatto  
  
An albino  
  
A mosquito  
  
My Libido  
  
Yeah, a denial  
  
A denial  
  
A denial...  
  
$$$$$  
  
"RACE!" I yelled, stopping halfway down the stairs. "RACE, THE SONG ENDED!"  
  
"YOU'RE KIDDING ME!"  
  
We both stood there in silence for ten seconds, listening. "Jeez, you're right!" said Race. "Why do authors only use one song in their stories?"  
  
"Well it was a good song," I said optimistically.  
  
"FAMOUS! RACE! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!" Jack was yelling.  
  
"IN THE BASEMENT ON A WILD GOOSE CHASE, LIKE YOU TOLD US TO!" Race yelled back.  
  
"Man, I didn't mean for you to take it LITERALLY," he groaned. "Here, come back up. We need you to go mopping outside."  
  
I blinked. "Did he just say he wanted us to go mopping outside?" I asked Race.  
  
"I dunno, I wasn't listening," he answered, shrugging.  
  
I chuckled. "Well c'mon, he wants us to come upstairs. Bring the mop, dude, okay?"  
  
We went back into the lobby, and Chip put his arms casually over our shoulders. "So guys- we was hopin' you'd do a little favor for us," he said offhandedly.  
  
"Oh yeah?" said Race.  
  
"Yeah," said Jack. "We was thinkin' about how damn messy it is outside, and maybe you guys could go and clean up a little."  
  
"Whaddaya mean?" I asked.  
  
"Well, you could mop up the dirt on the streets," said Mush carelessly. "I mean, you're always whining about how messy everything is out there- so why not clean it up some?"  
  
"Are you kidding me, it's ten friggin' degrees out!" Race hollered.  
  
"But Race, you guys would be like SUPERHEROES!" said Chip soothingly. His eyes lost their focus as he gazed into the distance. "Ridding the city of muck and making the world a better place for all living things: it's Racetrack Higgins the amazing flying goose and his trusty companion Famous Williams!"  
  
I thought geese already could fly. Hmm. Learn something new every day.  
  
Race arched an eyebrow. "Hey, we ain't stupid."  
  
"No?" said Rounder, trying not to laugh. I threw my hat at him.  
  
"No!" said Race. "We are very intelligent human beans-"  
  
"Human beans," Rounder chuckled.  
  
"-and we ain't goin' to mop the streets without a pail full of soapy water!" Race finished dramatically. He smiled proudly. Man, that kid is a lot smarter than he looks; I would never have thought of that.  
  
Jack suppressed a laugh. "Alright, Race. Ya want a pail, ya got one."  
  
And that was how we suddenly found ourselves standing outside the Lodging House with a mop and a bucket of soapy water. And Race was right. It was ten friggin' degrees out.  
  
"With the lights out, it's less dangerous!" I sang. I turned back to the Lodging House. "JACK! ME ASS IS GONNA FREEZE OFF! HOW THE HELL ARE WE S'POSED TO KEEP WARM?" I yelped.  
  
Jack poked his head out of the window. "Eh?"  
  
"How the hell are we s'posed to keep warm?" I repeated patiently.  
  
"Oh, I dunno," said Jack, shrugging and apparently thinking hard. His face lit up. "I've got it! You can make out! You know you can lose about hundred calories from a one-minute kiss? I read it on my Snapple iced tea."  
  
"Whaddaya mean 'you can make out'?" Race demanded.  
  
"Wait, exactly how many calories can you lose?" I wanted to know.  
  
"Nature CAAAAAAAAAAAALLS!" sang Jack, and he hopped away.  
  
Race turned to me and tilted his head to the side, squinting and plainly concentrating very hard. I squinted right back at him, although I had no idea what the hell he was doing. Finally he said, "Famous, when did you last brush your teeth?"  
  
"This morning."  
  
"Are you a good kisser?"  
  
"I dunno, I've never kissed myself."  
  
Race clasped his hands together. "Well then! There's no point in taking any risks, is there? I mean, what if it turns out you're a BAD kisser?"  
  
I gasped at the thought. "We have to think of a better way to stay warm!" I exclaimed.  
  
Race smiled. "I think I have an idea."  
  
*****  
  
"What you want, baby I got it! What you need, ya know I got it! All I'm askin' is for a little respect!" Race sang loudly.  
  
"Just a little bit! Just a little bit!" I yelled.  
  
"R-E-S-P-E-C-T! Find out what it means to me! R-E-S-P-E-C-T! Take care, T-C-B!"  
  
"Raaaace, they don't saaaay that yet!" I whined.  
  
"But that's my favorite part!" he answered.  
  
"Oh, okay. . .Let's just hum it then." We did our little dance on the sidewalk ("Hmm hm hmmmm, hm hm hm-hm!) and then I did my mop-guitar solo. Race got really into the dancing, but since you can't really tap dance to Aretha Franklin he made up some weird routine on the spot.  
  
Before long a crowd gathered around us (in our PJ's, singing Aretha Franklin) and when we were done, they gave us money. Don't ask WHY, because believe me I have no idea. I never knew I was so talented at mop- guitar- I can't wait to tell Jack!  
  
Race sat down cross-legged on the sidewalk and counted the coins. "AAAAH, FAMOUS!" he yelped.  
  
"WHAT?" I yelped back.  
  
"WE MADE TWENTY CENTS PLAYIN' MOP-GUITAR IN OUR PJ'S ON THE SIDEWALK!"  
  
I sat down next to him. "Are you kiddin' me?" I demanded.  
  
"I ain't, count 'em and see!"  
  
I decided to take his word for it. I'm still working on my numbers, and twenty would be a little too challenging for me at the moment. So instead and said "HOORAY!" and gave him a big hug.  
  
Personally, I think that was a lot more fun than making out for ten minutes. I wonder if I burned as many calories, though. I should drink Snapple more often.  
  
*****  
  
Shoutouts!!!  
  
Sapphy: DIAMONDS ARE A GIRL'S BEST FRIEND!!! Hooray, I love Moulin Rouge! Skittery says you can definitely sing with him (he has now moved on to "LOVE LIFTS US UP WHERE WE BELOOONG! WHERE EEEAGLES FLY ON A MOOOUNTAIN HIGH!" I think you got him into a Moulin Rouge frame of mind or sommat. . .) Jack is still thinking about what he can bribe you with (he just asked me if I thought you'd like a lifetime supply of the amazing edible caterpillars), Blink is still blubbering, and Rounder has now started singing with Skittery. Gah, my muses are killing me! Please, TAKE THEM!!! (Chip's favorite movie is "Old Yeller", so if you have him over for an all- movie night, that is what you will have to watch.) Thank you so much for the review, you rock my socks!!!  
  
ershey: Aaah, THREE REVIEWS!!! Thank you thank you thank you, you rock! Expect your blue magic marker in the mail shortly- if I can get Blinkers out of his bed and over to the mailbox. . .Personally, I just like ketchup on my hot dogs. Go Race!!! lol, I'm glad you like the Queens boys; they like you too! lol  
  
Breezy233: Ack, I feel so weird addressing you with your penname instead of "Christina" or "Stines" or "Mrs. Conlon". . .except I only called you that once, didn't I? Aaanyway. I know Spot hasn't been in it that much- I'm planning on putting him in at the end, but you probably won't like the way I do it. Won't say no more, you'll just have to wait and see. *wicked grin* lol, thanks for the review!! xoxoxo- ah, I'm so used to doing that! Whatever, lots of love, review again soon!!!  
  
Repeats: I totally agree, nothing could POSSIBLY be funny without a killer chicken thrown in there somewhere. Thank you so much for the review, you rock!!! IM me soon! ;-)  
  
*****  
  
Author's Note: Aaah, thank you guys SO MUCH for the reviews, you're fantastic!!! And I know this chapter was very. . .gah, it was indescribable. Weird, I suppose, but definitely not as weird as the killer chicken one. . .Anyway, review please!! Rounder sends his love! :-)  
  
-Saturday 


	8. Eggnog

Author's Note: Dedicated to Wallaby the Coconut, whom my sister fell in love with on our trip to Puerto Rico. And also to Christina because she rocks my socks.  
  
Disclaimer: Gah, you know the drill. Once upon a time I didn't own anything in this story. The end.  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Eight - Eggnog  
  
*****  
  
"If you wanna call me baby, just go ahead now! And if you'd like to tell me maybe, just go ahead now! And if you wanna buy me flowers, just go ahead now! And if you'd like to talk for hours, just go ahead now!"  
  
Jack leaned over to me and cocked his head to the side. "Tell me, Famous, does he EVER stop singing?" he asked mildly, nodding at Rounder.  
  
I glanced at Rounder, who had grabbed Chip and was doing a tango, against Chip's will, might I add. ("Said one, two princes kneel before you, that's what I said now! Princes, princes who adore you, just go ahead now-" "ROUNDER! GET THE HELL OFF ME!" "Marry him or marry me! I'm the one that loves you baby can't you see? I ain't-" "JESUS CHRIST, IF YOU MAKE ME SPIN AROUND ONE MORE TIME, I'LL-")  
  
I looked back at Jack. "No, not really."  
  
We both looked up as Rounder went flying over our heads, landing on Boots' bed. "Hey Chip, whatsamatta with you anyways?" he demanded.  
  
Chip just looked at him and mumbled something about pouring kerosene down his throat.  
  
"I don't like kerosene," said Rounder. He then smiled, batted his eyelashes at Chip, and sang, "I am sixteen, going on seventeen, I know that I'm naïve! Fellows I meet will tell me I'm sweet and willingly I believe!"  
  
"I can only imagine what it must be like to live with you guys down in Queens," said Jack. He reached back to pull on his cowboy hat- and let out a yell!  
  
I yelled too. "AAAAAH, JACK! WHAT THE HELL!"  
  
"MY COWBOY HAT!!!!!" He blinked and continued to feel around on his back, as though he just couldn't process the idea that it wasn't there. I think he even sleeps with it on. (A/N: I know, I know, he doesn't. . .but Famous doesn't know that, does she? She's only slept at the Manhattan Lodging House about a million times, but she's a little slow on the uptake.)  
  
"What?" said Rounder slowly.  
  
"My cowboy hat is GONE!" To my utmost surprise, however, Jack didn't go into a searching frenzy like Blink did when he lost his magic marker. He just sniffed and a single tear slid down his dirty cheek. "Why is it gone, Famous?"  
  
"I don't know," I said honestly.  
  
Jack's bottom lip began to tremble.  
  
"But we'll find it for you!" I added quickly.  
  
Chip raised an eyebrow sardonically. "We will?"  
  
"Yes! We will find it very soon and give it back to Jack so he can be a cowboy again!" I said strongly.  
  
"You mean. . .I'm not a cowboy now?" said Jack slowly.  
  
"No! No, that's not what I meant at all! I just- of course you're still a cowboy! Haven't you ever heard of a cowboy who lost his hat?"  
  
"No."  
  
Rounder piped up, "I have! Marty lost his hat in 'Back to the Future: Part III' when the time machine crashed and he was chased by a bear and then he rolled down a hill and hit the fence and fell asleep!"  
  
Chip blinked. "Who the hell is Marty?"  
  
"McFly!" said Rounder, aggravated, rapping Chip's head with his knuckles. "McFly, anybody home, McFly?"  
  
"Get off me!" Chip yelled, prying Rounder off. "And why the hell are you callin' me McFly? I'm Chip, remember? Chip Murphy? Your bunkmate in the Queens Lodging House, the dude who you claimed should know about your 'six- pack'?"  
  
Rounder sighed dramatically and mumbled something about Chip not watching enough good movies. Jack sniffed again.  
  
Just then David came slowly into the sleeping quarters, looking reluctant, holding Les' hand.  
  
"Heya Dave," said Race from the corner where he was playing poker with Mush and Blink. "Long time no see. In fact, I haven't seen you since Skitts pulled off that absolutely BRILLIANT prank on you at Medda's. . ." He broke off and doubled over in hysterical laughter. ". . .and you was all confused. . .Man, that was- AAAAAH, Mush, stop lookin' at me cards!"  
  
"Hey guys," said Dave. He glanced at Jack, who had another tear sliding out of his big hazel eyes. "Uh- Jack, are you alright?"  
  
"Me- hat," Jack whispered. "It's gone."  
  
"AAAAAH SO IS MY EGGNOG COLLECTION!!!!!" Itey bellowed from under his bed.  
  
"You have an eggnog collection? That's disgusting," said Chip.  
  
"I don't have it ANYMORE, it's GONE!"  
  
"AND SO IS MY HAT!"  
  
"DREAM OF CALIFORNICATION!"  
  
"SHUT UP, ROUNDER!"  
  
"No!" Rounder grinned and put his arm around David's shoulder. "Heya Dave, I'm gonna write a song for you!"  
  
"Oh please, don't do this to me, Rounder," David moaned.  
  
"MY EGGNOG LIES OVER THE OCEAN!" Itey yelled.  
  
"MY HAT LIES OVER THE SEA- damn, it doesn't sound as good when you sing about a hat, does it?" said Jack gloomily.  
  
"Guys, this is MY solo!!" said Rounder in an almost-annoyed voice. (But Rounder is physically incapable of feeling any emotions except excitement and happiness, so his smile didn't even falter.) "It's to that song by Matchbox Twenty."  
  
"I hate Matchbox Twenty," said David.  
  
"Are you kidding me?" said Bumlets. "Nobody in their right mind could ever hate Matchbox Twenty."  
  
"HOORAY FOR BUMLETS!" I said.  
  
"I'm going to sing my song now!" said Rounder. He cleared his throat. "Davey, Davey, Davey, when your shampoo is gone, what will clean you and all the Curly-Qs upon your head? Yeah and maybe, maybe, maybe you'll find something that's a good replacement! But that look upon your face meant that you took Itey's eggnog collection and brought it home!"  
  
"HOORAY FOR ROUNDER!" I said. "I like it!"  
  
"Wait- are you trying to say I washed my hair with Itey's eggnog?" David said slowly.  
  
"Precisely, my dear Watson," Rounder replied.  
  
"THAT'S MY LINE!" Cake yelled, appearing out of nowhere.  
  
"Why on earth do you think I washed my hair with EGGNOG, of all things???" David wanted to know.  
  
"Your hair smells like eggnog," said Les.  
  
Rounder messed up Les' hair. "Precisely, my dear W- Aaah, just kidding, Cake, uh- I mean. . .exactly, Les!"  
  
David ran his fingers through his hair. "It does not. . ."  
  
"Yes it does!" said Rounder.  
  
"Really?" I asked. "Here, lemme smell it."  
  
"Me too!" said Itey.  
  
"ME THREE!" said Race.  
  
"ME FOUR!" said Jack.  
  
"ME FIVE!" said Bumlets.  
  
"ME SIX!" said Chip.  
  
"ME SEVEN!" said Blink.  
  
"ME EIGHT!" said Mush.  
  
"ME NINE!" said Boots.  
  
"ME TEN!" said Crutchy.  
  
"ME FOURTY-FIVE!" said Les.  
  
"YOU CAN'T REACH MY HAIR, LES, YOU'RE TOO SHORT!" David tried to yell, but his voice was rather muffled because of the mountain of newsies on him trying to smell his hair.  
  
"Ewww, it DOES smell like eggnog!" Jack said.  
  
"Make that eggnog gone bad," said Chip, holding his nose. "Itey, how long did you have your collection?"  
  
"About six or seven years," said Itey, counting on his fingers.  
  
"I DID NOT WASH MY HAIR WITH EGGNOG!" David yelled.  
  
"Well actually, your shampoo did taste a little funny this morning," said Les.  
  
We all stared at him. "You- eat shampoo?" said Bumlets slowly.  
  
"Of course! I always taste my shampoo before I use it, just to make sure it's not poisoned or something," said Les slowly, as if we were all a bit dim (and most of us were).  
  
"Well. No sense in taking that risk," said Bumlets, running a hand tentatively through his hair. "Do you think my hair could be poisoned?"  
  
"I dunno." Rounder smelled it. "Nah, it smells fine."  
  
"Hey, let's go sit in the corner and pick bugs out of each other's hair!" said Bumlets enthusiastically.  
  
"Hooray! Can we eat the bugs?"  
  
"ENOUGH!"  
  
We all looked down (except Les, who was so short he didn't need to look down) at Cake. "Yes, Cake?" said Dutchy.  
  
"Hold on, I gotta set the mood," said Cake. He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out the little pipe that Mush had given him for Christmas several years ago. He lit it with a flourish, put it in his mouth, and tipped his hat so that it shaded his eyes slightly.  
  
"Hey, he looks kinda like Sherlock Holmes!" said Rounder. "That's ironic! He'll be so excited when I tell him. HEY CAKE, GUESS WHAT? YOU LOOK KINDA LIKE-"  
  
"SHHH!" Steel hissed, nudging him in the ribs.  
  
"Well someone's a grump today. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Mr. I-like-to-be-mean-to-Rounder-because-I'm-jealous-of- his-six-pack? Huh?"  
  
Steel promptly ignored this and watched Cake, who had started to slowly pace the room.  
  
"I have been watching this series of events carefully for the past few days," he said in a flawless British accent. "First Harriet went missing. . .then we lost Blink's magic marker. . .then Jack's hat, and now Itey's eggnog. Before I continue with the diagnosis, is there anyone else who has found that something dear to them has gone missing?"  
  
There was a general murmur as people considered the last time they had seen their precious items. I was all set; I had my coconut Wallaby right there in my pocket, so I knew he couldn't have gone anywhere. Then Bumlets exclaimed, "Wait! I think I lost my collection of left-shoes!"  
  
"Oh no!" said everyone in unison. Then we all scrambled over to the special shoebox, which we found to be empty.  
  
"Oh no!" we all said again.  
  
"Never fear, peace shall be restored to Manhattan once I am through," said Cake imperiously. "Is that all that has been lost?"  
  
"Uh. . .yeah," we all said.  
  
"Okay, we can stop talking in unison now!" said Race.  
  
"Okay, Race, sorry," we all said together.  
  
"GAAH!" Race groaned, leaning on my shoulder.  
  
"Shut up, I'm having a moment here!!!" said Cake. He then returned to his British accent. "So. . .so far we have lost an insect, a magic marker, a hat, an eggnog collection, and a collection of left shoes, am I right?"  
  
"RIGHT!" we all said.  
  
"There has also been a mysterious attack of a killer chicken-"  
  
"And I had a nightmare about a potted plant!!!" I added.  
  
Chip quickly turned his snigger into a hacking cough.  
  
"Piecing the information together, I have come to a conclusion and I have found the culprit!" said Cake. He paused dramatically. "I am sorry to reveal that the wrongdoer is none other than-"  
  
"Me."  
  
We all turned. "YOU???"  
  
Dutchy smiled wickedly. "Yes. . .me."  
  
DUN DUN DUNNNN! TO BE CONTINUED!!!  
  
*****  
  
Shoutouts!!!  
  
Breezy233: You SHOULD feel special, because you are! (lol, that was about as cheesy as it gets.) And- BEHOLD! Bumlets was actually IN this chapter a little bit! I would have put him in more, but I'm obsessed with equal division of lines. (Except Rounder seemed to get the most in this chapter, didn't he? I confess, I have a crush on my own character! lol) And by the way: UPDATE YOUR STORY SOON! I REALLY WANNA READ WHAT HAPPENS NEXT AAAH! :- )  
  
CTB4life: I love Racetrack too, he rocks!! Thanks so much for the review, I'm glad you like my extremely bizarre story. ;-) I love your name, by the way. CARRYING THE BANNER!!  
  
Scout73: Two reviews, aaah thank you!! Believe me, if I had a picture of Rounder I'd be making copies and plastering them all over my room. (I'd give one to you, though, because you're cool.) He's really very popular with the ladies, isn't he? ;-) lol, thanks for the reviews!  
  
Repeat: Of COURSE Blink will find his magic marker in the end!! Lol, I cracked up when you were like "CURSE WHOEVER STOLE THE MAGIC MARKER! (unless it was rounder, then it's ok)" Gah, you're so funny! But- it wasn't Rounder!! DUN DUN DUNNNN! lol, ttyl  
  
ershey: I'm cool? Why hasn't anyone ever told me? You're cool too! lol- I honestly have no idea how Race and Famous got their PJs on, there are some things they don't tell even me. Sometimes it's safer to just drop it. ;-) Thanks for the review, I love ya lots!  
  
Sapphy: Rounder's off searching for a castle in the clouds to whisk you away to. "What's the point of whisking her away if I have nowhere to whisk her away TO?" he had said, aggravated that I didn't understand his pattern of thought. Ah well. He'll be back soon, with more ideas for my most peculiar story. ;-) Thanks for the review, my boys are anxiously awaiting your next one!  
  
*****  
  
Author's Note: Aaah, cliffhanger!!! This was a really short, screwy chapter lol- sorry to all the Dutchy fans, I love him too; don't worry, all shall end well. Thanks for reviewing, I love you all!!!  
  
-Saturday 


	9. The End of all this Nonsense

Author's Note: And now, the moment she has been waiting for all her life --- chapter nine is dedicated to Hannah!!! *wild applause* And Rae!! *louder applause because, according to Hannah, I like Rae better (lol)*  
  
Diclaimer: Gah, you know what I own and don't own. Must I explain it once more? I think not!  
  
*****  
  
Chapter 9 -- The End of all this Nonsense  
  
*****  
  
"Dutchy, I know you're excited to finally have your brilliant dramatic 'bad- guy-reveals-his-evil-plot' scene right now, but are you quite sure this is entirely necessary?" said Rounder as Dutchy carefully tied him to a chair.  
  
"Yes, Rounder," Dutchy replied calmly.  
  
"How 'bout if I sing to you? Then will you let me go?"  
  
"No, Rounder."  
  
"I'll dance! I learned the dance number from 'The Sound of Music' when--"  
  
"No, Rounder, its ok. You don't have to dance for me, I'm not going to let you go."  
  
Rounder pouted. It was extremely cute. "You're no fun. I hate you. At least Chip lets me do the 'The Sound of Music' dance number, even if he yells insults the whole time."  
  
"YOU HATE ME???" Dutchy sobbed, his clear blue eyes brimming with tears.  
  
"No!" said Rounder happily, "I don't hate anybody!"  
  
"You don't have the slightest idea how to hold grudges, either," Chip muttered.  
  
The Lodging House was a mess. Dutchy had somehow managed to get his hands on about thirty chairs, and had tied us all up. I'm proud to say that we were all quite cooperative (except Rounder, who insisted on humming "The Hills Are Alive" the while time --- it drove us out of our minds). I would hate for Dutchy's special moment to be ruined because one of us suddenly decided to be disobliging.  
  
Besides, it was kind of fun to be tied up like this. Race and I scooted our chairs back to back so that we could be like Henry and Indiana Jones in "The Last Crusade". It was pretty neat.  
  
"Hey Race?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Do ya think Dutchy's gonna kill us?"  
  
"Eat us, probably."  
  
"Do ya really think so?"  
  
"Well --- no. I just wanted to see if I could make you scream."  
  
"I could scream if you want me to."  
  
"Would you do that for me?"  
  
"Well if we're both going to die soon because Dutchy's gonna eat us, I might as well be nice to you in our last moments together."  
  
I screamed. Dutchy yelled at my to be quiet. I stopped.  
  
"That was cool," said Race.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Cool."  
  
We sat in silence for a while, watching Dutchy hop around trying to find something, before Race scooted his chair so that it was facing mine. "Hey Famous?"  
  
"Yeah?" I said, rather crossly. He had ruined our Indiana Jones setup.  
  
"Well --- I've been thinking." He tilted his head to the side. "I've been thinking that ... maybe mustard isn't that bad on hotdogs?"  
  
I looked at him. "D-do you really mean that?"  
  
"Well --- yeah."  
  
A smile tugged up the corner of his mouth. Slowly, we both started to lean foreword --- and then we both overbalanced and fell over. I had forgotten that we were tied to chairs, and apparently it had slipped Race's mind too. Of course.  
  
"AAAH, what are you guys DOING??" said Dutchy.  
  
"Well I was TRYING to kiss Famous, but your stupid chairs got in the way," Race mumbled.  
  
"What was that?" Dutchy snapped.  
  
"I said, uhh... qué pasa?"  
  
"You watch the Lion King too much," said Chip.  
  
Dutchy blinked. I think he was getting kind of confused. You know, this kid just wasn't the evil villain TYPE, and he was becoming very nervous. He cleared his throat and sat himself down on Kloppman's desk.  
  
"Where IS the Kloppah, anyway?" said Jack.  
  
"I dunno," said Dutchy.  
  
"Oh wheeeeere oh wheeeeere has the Klopp-er-man goooone? Oh wheeeeere oh wheeeeere can he beeeeeeee?" sang Rounder.  
  
"Guys, I want to reveal my evil plan now," said Dutchy quietly. "Is that ok?"  
  
"Sure!" said Bumlets happily.  
  
"I don't understand you guys," said David.  
  
"This is fun!" said Les.  
  
Dutchy narrowed his eyes. Wow. He looked really evil now. Was that smoke coming out of his ears? Nah, never mind, his hair just looked funny --- he was really starting to creep me out now. And he was off, pacing the lodging house with his hands behind his back. Classic.  
  
He stopped suddenly. "It all began," he said dramatically, "the night before last when we played truth or dare together."  
  
Itey giggled. "That was fun."  
  
"Blink told us the story of Sophia and the beginning of the squiggly moustaches. I took interest at once, and was thrilled when he suggested that we ALL get squiggly moustaches," Dutchy continued matter-of-factly. "HOWEVER, I was horrified to find that Blink's marker was BLACK!"  
  
There was an impressive silence for several seconds. Then Les voiced what we were all thinking. "So...?"  
  
"WELL," said Dutchy, as if we were all a bit slow, "my hair is BLONDE!"  
  
Yet another silence. "SO??" Les repeated finally.  
  
"THE MOUSTACHE WOULDN'T MATCH MY HAIR BECAUSE IT WAS BLACK AND MY HAIR WAS BLONDE!!! WHAT ON EARTH WAS I GOING TO DO??? Well I'll tell you what I was going to do."  
  
"What you DID do," David corrected.  
  
"Shut up, Dave, I'm having a moment here," Dutchy snapped. David frowned and, as always when he gets mad, his nose turned a funny color. Race and I started to giggle uncontrollably. Dutchy ignored us. (We were always giggling, anyway.)  
  
He went on huffily, "I TOSSED and TURNED all night LONG, before coming to a decision."  
  
He paused. We all leaned in. I leaned in too far and fell over again.  
  
"If I couldn't be happy, NO OTHER NEWSIE COULD BE HAPPY!" Dutchy announced finally. "I began by stealing Harriet---"  
  
"WHERE IS SHE, YOU STINKY-HEAD?!?" Mush demanded.  
  
"I'm NOT a stinky-head!" Dutchy retorted.  
  
"Yes you ARE!"  
  
"No I'm NOT! I'm an evil genius!"  
  
"FINE! But WHERE IS HARRIET???"  
  
"She's in a jar under my bed with some broccoli and a piece of pepperoni pizza," said Dutchy irritably. "She is quite happy and has grown rather fat as a result of the good food I have been giving her. NOW WILL YOU LET ME CONTINUE WITH MY STORY??"  
  
"Okay!" said Mush.  
  
Dutchy narrowed his eyes again and looked extremely evil once more. "I soon realized that if I was going to execute my evil plan, I would need the thing that had started my internal conflict in the first place." He smiled wickedly and then pulled something out of his pocket.  
  
"MY MAGIC MARKER??" said Blink.  
  
"The very one." Dutchy started pacing again. "As the days went by, I carefully took several of my colleagues' much-loved belongings: Jack's cowboy hat, Itey's eggnog collection, Bumlets' collection of left shoes, etc. As a diversion, I also let lose my darling Alice the killer chicken in the bathroom stall. Everything went perfectly ... but I did not take into account our little detective here. Cake Johnson, who insists that we call him Cake Holmes, although nobody really does. He was on my tail before I knew it, and thus, here I am. Revealing my evil plan to you all."  
  
I closed my eyes, trying to process the information. Okay, so his hair didn't match the magic marker so he stole all our stuff so that nobody would be happy ... and the killer chicken was a diversion, and Harriet's still ok. Alright, I think I get it.  
  
Blink looked confused. "But Dutchy, I have a whole pack of magic markers." He reached into his pocket and pulled a small box out. "I just like the black one best, and that's why I was so heartbroken when it was gone. The black on is my special SQUIGGLY MOUSTACHE marker, but if you want, I could give you a yellow moustache!"  
  
Dutchy stared at him. "W-what?"  
  
"Look!" Blink took out another marker, identical to the black one in Dutchy's hands, except for the fact that this one was bright yellow.  
  
Okay, now I was confused.  
  
There were MORE magic markers?  
  
I looked at Race. He looked rather befuddled. Aaah, is that not the BEST word in the English language? Befuddled. Befuddled befuddled befuddled! I could say it all day. And I promise, Race really did look like that.  
  
"I-I can have a --- YELLOW squiggly moustache?" said Dutchy slowly.  
  
"Of COURSE!" said Blink happily. "Just freakin' untie me, I am extremely uncomfortable. And apologize to everybody, and give them back their stuff."  
  
Dutchy cleared his throat awkwardly and turned to the rest of us. "I'm --- well, I'm sorry guys. I didn't mean to hurt anybody."  
  
"Yes you did," said Rounder happily.  
  
"Yes I did," Dutchy admitted. "But I'm sorry."  
  
"It's okay!!!" I said.  
  
"Yeah, we forgive you, Dutchy," everybody said in unison. That's when the cheesy music came on and he untied us all and gave everybody back our stuff. Honestly, my life feels like a movie sometimes.  
  
Not that I'm complaining. Movies are fun.  
  
Then Dutchy took out Alice the killer chicken and let us all pet her. He told us that she was extremely cranky the other day because he had fed her some cauliflower that had disagreed with her. "She's allergic," he explained calmly. "One bite will get her running around attacking anyone she sees. The effects only last about an hour or so, but they are extremely entertaining if you're not the one being attacked."  
  
I laughed. Race began to smile at me. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly rather shy. That was when I realized that if I wanted to get this done, I would have to do it myself.  
  
Now you really didn't think I was going to describe to the world my first kiss with Racetrack Higgins, did you? All I'm going to tell you is that his hands went a lot of places they shouldn't have, and that Rounder started laughing hysterically and had to be taken out of the room. It was incredibly enjoyable.  
  
After a minute, Race pulled back. "Man, Famous, you're one hell of a kisser," he said. "Whaddaya do, practice on your pillow?"  
  
"Nah," I said, "I'm just gifted like that."  
  
He laughed and kissed me again.  
  
"Oh hi, Spot!" said Les suddenly. I turned around to come face-to-face with Spot Conlon. His timing couldn't have been more perfect.  
  
"Famous Williams, how can you possibly call yourself the leader of the Queens newsies if you spend all of your time in Manhattan?" he said curtly.  
  
I shrugged. "I don't call myself the leader; I was dubbed that as a sort of a joke one night, and for some bizarre reason when the old leader left, I found myself taking his place."  
  
"And it's Famous HIGGINS, not Famous Williams," said Les.  
  
"Whatever the hell I'm supposed to call her," Spot said, annoyed.  
  
"I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES! WHERE YA FROM, YOU SEXY THING, YOU SEXY THING YOU! I BELIEVE IN MIRACLES---" Rounder sang, hopping inside. Apparently, he had calmed down enough to stop giggling and instead had started singing again. He stopped, however, when he saw Spot. "Hey, did you know that if you add O's around every letter of Spot's name, you get Osopoto? Isn't that funny? It sounds Egyptian or something!!" he exclaimed.  
  
Spot stared at him. I think he was stunned that anybody could be so incredibly --- STRANGE.  
  
But that's why we love Rounder. Who else would add O's around every letter of Spot's name? (Except the actual O in his name, I noticed...)  
  
Race walked over to Dutchy and whispered something in his ear. Everyone watched with interest (except Spot, who had his hands in his pockets and was seemingly trying to figure out how Rounder got "Osopoto" out of "Spot") as Dutchy nodded and took something out of his pocket.  
  
The people who could see what it was quickly drew back --- except Rounder and me, because we're both kind of dim-witted. And Spot stayed right where he was, because he's egotistical and also rather stupid.  
  
Race took the small piece of cauliflower and popped it into Alice's mouth. We all watched, mesmerized, as she chewed slowly, swallowed, and settled comfortable into Race's arms. Then suddenly her eyes shone bright red and smoke really did come out of her ears. The feathers on the top of her head stood up straight. She fixed her small, beady eyes on Spot Conlon, who was standing directly in front of her.  
  
Spot's eyes widened. "Oh no --- no, wait a minute, Race, you're not going to---"  
  
Race smiled sweetly and set Alice down on the floor. She and Spot glared at each other for a second, and then she puffed herself up and cried "CAWW!!!"  
  
"AAAAAAAH!" yelled Spot.  
  
Alice ran at him, cawing piercingly, and chased him out of the lodging house. We all hurried to the window to see him fly around the corner, screaming his head off, with the killer chicken at his heels.  
  
"Spot screams like a goil," said Specs.  
  
"WE BEAT 'IM!" yelled Jack, and we all did the traditional Lebanese dance called the dabke to celebrate.  
  
Well, that's pretty much the end of my story. Race and I continued dating for several years, and Spot kind of left me alone. He now lives in mortal fear of chickens --- although he would never admit it for the world. Somebody got a picture of him with a chicken hopping around on his chest, and it was the big headlines for the papers for the next few days after Alice attacked him.  
  
And Blink? Well, he's still giving out squiggly moustaches at every possible opportunity.  
  
Yep, life is pretty good.  
  
And by the way, I tried one of those caterpillars I gave to Racetrack. They are fabulous.  
  
*****  
  
Shoutouts!!! (The last ones ... aaah, I am heartbroken!!)  
  
Silverofsilver: I apologize for the torment that my horrible story put you through. I hope you are not offended that I am not observing your "constructive criticism"; I am still writing, and I probably will be for quite a long time. My one question: if this was "complete torture to read", why on earth did you cause yourself so much pain and suffering by reading all the way to chapter eight? Indeed, that is quite a lot of torture. I admire your spirit. Actually, I don't ... you kind of pissed me off. I hope that, in the future, you will find more "intelligent" stories to read during your time on fanfiction.net.  
  
Breezy233: Christina Zupicich, how on earth can you not like eggnog??? That's unheard of! Fungus!!! lol--- yes, I managed to add my beloved midget in there. He's kind of split between Chip, who has his last name and his sarcasm, and Cake, who is just insanely short. But still. He's there (wearing Newsies clothes, might I add ... dear lord) Thank you for reviewing! (And update your story, for God's sake!! I'm dying here!)  
  
Dice Lees: Aaah, thank you so much!!! I'm glad you liked it --- but now it's over. :-( Thank you so much for reviewing, though, I had this huge geeky grin for the rest of the day when I got your review. ;-)  
  
MiseryLovesCompany: Yeah, the killer chicken was my favorite part too. What could possibly be more fun than Racetrack Higgins fighting a chicken with a toilet plunger in a bathroom stall? :D lol, thank you so much for reviewing!!  
  
Trolley: "I knew it was Dutchy!...ok, not really, but, I don't really like him, don't know why. He's gonna die in my fic..." Gah! I love you, you're hysterical! I like Dutchy! Well --- I like all the newsies. But especially Dutchy! And Race, and Skittery, and Spot (yeah, I know, you'd never guess), and David (you'd never guess that one, either), and Itey!!! I love them all, I'll stop ranting now. Thank you for reviewing!! :-)  
  
Sapphy: Yay! I love your reviews, you're hilarious! And I'm not kidding, I had that whole "L is for the way you look at me..." song stuck in my head for the next two days after I read your review. It was insane. (I got a lot of weird looks as I was walking to French going "EEEEEEE IS EEEVEN MORE THAN AAAAANYONE THAT YOOOOOOU ADOOOOORE!!!") And Rounder loves you too!! lol, thank you so much for reviewing!!  
  
Repeats: lmao, you are hysterical!!! Anyway. Yeah, I know, I was kind of pissed off at Dutchy too, but then he explained that Harriet was perfectly happy so I don't hate him anymore. *glomps Dutchy* See? We're all friends now!! Thank you so much for reviewing, I love you like hell!!  
  
CTB4life: Yeah, that last chapter was definitely not my best work ... Neither is this chapter, for that matter. I suck at writing the ends of stories, I get too sad and I never want them to end. lol, thanks for reviewing! Carryin' da bannah!!!  
  
ershey: I think the word would be "curiosity", lol, but curiousness is perfectly fine. Dude!!! My computer didn't spell check curiousness! Is it actually a word? AAAAAHAHAHA!!! I looked it up in the thesaurus and I got oddness, strangeness, weirdness, eccentricity, abnormality, and irregularity. So it is a word!! YAY!! That's the greatest ... well, thank you SO much for reviewing, you rock my socks!!!!  
  
Scout73: Never fear, I was not at all alarmed at your continual "requests" that I update soon. They were pretty fun. ;-) By the way, why is everything about you 73? Just wondering. I was lying in bed last night and all of the sudden I thought "Why does Scout like the number 73 so much?" It was extremely random, lol. I personally like the number 3. It's a magic number!! *starts singing* Threeeeee is a magic numberrrrr! Yes it iiiiiiiis! It's a magic numberrrrr!!! Yay! Thank you so much for reviewing, you're awesome!!  
  
*****  
  
Author's Note: Aaah, it's over! Well not quite --- I have that little "epilogue" thing at the end. Well it's really not an epilogue, it's more like a collection of the character's ramblings ... gah, it's hard to explain. Anyway, I LOVE YOU ALL!! THANK YOU FOR REVIEWING MY INCREDIBLY BIZARRE STORY, YOU MADE ME VERY HAPPY!!! MWAH!!!  
  
-Saturday 


	10. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** I'm sorry, I just can't stop.

*****

Epilogue 

*****

_All: _"We're Famous Williams' sexy boys club band!"

_Rounder:_ "We hope that you've enjoyed the show!" 

_All:_ "We're Famous Williams' sexy boys club band!"

_Racetrack:_ "We're sorry but it's time to go!"

_All:_ "Famous Williams' sexy, Famous Williams' sexy, Famous Williams' sexy boys club band!" 

_Mush and Harriet:_ "It was wonderful to be here, it was certainly a thrill!"

_Itey:_ "You're such a lovely audience, we'd love to take you home with us WE'D LOVE TO TAKE YOU HOME!"

--

**Famous:** Would we really?

**Rounder:** Well, yes.  Sapphy and I are getting married -- well, Dave has invented an ingenious cloning machine that can make copies of me!  That way I can marry everybody!

**Racetrack:** You're incredibly egotistical.

**Rounder:** By my heel, I care not.  (starts singing)  L is for the way you look at me!  O is for the only one I see!  V is very very...

**Famous:** Those reviewers were nice. They didn't make fun of me. (smiles vacantly)

**Racetrack:** (aside to audience) She's a little deranged.  I think she's had a strange childhood or something. . .

**Rounder:** (loudly) By my heel, I care not.

**Famous:** ENOUGH WITH THE SHAKESPEARE!!

**Racetrack:** (aside to audience) Yep, definitely a strange childhood.

--

_All:_ "We're Famous Williams' sexy boys club band!  Famous Williams' sexy, Famous Williams' sexy, Famous Williams' sexy boys club baaaaaaand!"

_Boots:_ "And many moooooore!!!"

--

**Chip:** What the hell?  You don't say "and many more" at the end of a Beatles parody, you moron.  That's for birthday songs, remember. . .?

--

_Rounder:_ "And Mandy Mooooooore!!!"

--

**Chip:** That's -- aaaaaarrrrrrggggggh.

**Blink:** SQUIGGLY MOUSTACHES FOR EVERYONE!!!  And a special blue marker for ershey, because. . .Famous, why am I giving ershey a special blue marker?

**Famous:** Because she was nice to you and asked politely.

**Blink:** Oh, ok!  I like ershey, she's cool.

**Racetrack:** That's all very nice, Blink—

**Blink:** Maybe I should give her a pink one too!

**Racetrack:** Blink?  Weren't you sort of in the middle of a big speech?

**Blink:** (long, thoughtful pause) Oh yeah!  I forgot.  Anyways, let's all put squiggly moustaches on and sing and dance and be merry!  HOORAY!  FREE HUGS TO ALL READERS AND REVIEWERS!

**All newsies:** HOORAY!!!  (Everybody hops around and sings "Smells Like Teen Spirit")

*****

Sorry, this was WEIRD.  Thanks to all reviewers, I love you like hell!  MWAH again!  lol -- the end. :-)

-Saturday


End file.
